Remember When It Rained
by RMTNDEW
Summary: My name is Jayden, I see things. Things that aren't of this time. I ran away from home to meet a man called Logan, and when I returned, my parents sent me Xavier's institute. That's when things really started to get complicated.
1. The Start

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, Fox or the song 'Remember When It Rained' by Josh Groban (although I do love his voice).

Sidenote: After 'Confessions of A Broken Heart' I got some people saying I should write a sequel. So I did. I spent three months exactly writing this thing and I really hope ya'll like it. As I said, this _is_ a sequel to 'Confessions of A Broken Heart', but ya'll don't have to read it in order to read this one. It will explain itself. But if you do plan on reading it, I suggest doing do before reading this. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

* * *

Remember When It Rained

I see things.

I see things not of this time.

Whether they were of the past or the future, I wasn't sure.

There's an explosion. For a moment, all I can see is a bright, white light. I'm temporarily blinded. I blink furiously until my sight returns.

A terrible smell assaults my nostrils. I don't know how I know, but somehow I know it's the smell of burning flesh.

There's a scream.

I turn to search for who the scream belongs to.

I see the glow of orange fire burning the hair of a girl, climbing its way to her face.

Her neck is already burnt.

I run.

She screams again.

I run faster.

By the time I reach her, the skin is peeling from her face. I try to pay out the fire as carefully as possible, but still she screams.

"Marie, can you hear me?" Between a whimper and gritting her teeth, she nods her head in acknowledgment. "I'm gonna' take care of you, you're gonna' be alright. You hear me? So just hang on, darlin', you'll be alright in a second."

"Don't Logan, don't," she breathes out.

"Shut up kid, let me work here."

"You're so arrogant."

"And you're stubborn."

"I got it from you."

"Then you know no matter what you say, it ain't gonna' change my mind." She nodded slowly. "Good, then shut up."

Carefully, I peel the small leather glove from her right hand and bring it up to my face. I pause for only a moment to look into her face. It's burnt. Badly. But her eyes are steady, holding her gaze with mine. She has a strength and wisdom that most people would never know, especially not someone her age. But it's there. She has it. And she knows what's coming next.

"You're gonna' be alright darlin', you're gonna' be alright."

I take a deep breath and then touch her hand to my face. Then there's pain.

A small shake woke me from my sleep. I looked up sleepily at my mother, who was standing above me.

"Jayden honey, we've landed."

I looked around me, asserting my sense of reality back into the plane where I was sitting.

"Come on you two, what's the hold up?" my dad asked.

"Nothing, just…tired," I lied. I stood from my seat and grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment. I forced a small smile at them. "Let's go."

My name is Jayden. Like I said; I see things.

It was two weeks after New Years and the airport was full of people on their way back home from holiday. Some looked happy, while others seemed to be less than excited at the prospect of having to return to work or school. I felt like I was fighting against the tide. Everyone else was leaving, but I was in New York to stay.

I looked around me, looking at everything passing me by. I was no one special to them, and I didn't know who they were either. I wondered just how many were mutants, too. Was it possible that I was the only one there? I tried to amuse myself with the thought, but it didn't last long. The vision that I had been having while on the plane kept creeping back into my mind. The images of the girl, Marie, on fire, with her skin falling from her face were equally burned into my memory. The smell was even worse. My nose remembered the smell. My mouth still tasted it. I couldn't get it out of my head.

"What do you say, sweetheart?" I heard my dad say.

"Huh?"

"Do you see any sign of Mr. Summers?"

"Oh, um, sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

We were standing just outside of the terminal. I was supposed to be looking for Scott Summers. He was a teacher at the school I was to be attending for the next few months. I had had some problems near the end of the previous year. My visions, which hadn't been too much of a problem for most of my life, had suddenly become more than I could take. I was having visions of one man, repeatedly, and after a month, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away from home to find him. I did, and I spent nearly two months with him, driving around Canada. Once I found out the reasoning behind why I had been seeing him, I went back home. My parents insisted that I see a doctor, a psychiatrist named Dr. Lewis. I explained why I had left and what had happened while I had been gone.

A month later, I received a visit from Scott Summers. Over dinner, he told my parents about a school for gifted young people in New York where he worked. He said that the owner, Professor Charles Xavier, had been in contact with my doctor and that he would like for me to stay with them until the summer. Or longer, if I wanted. Mr. Summers explained that a lot of the students there had been runaways at some point, and that they took care to help the students to deal with their emotional problems that may have led them to such dramatic actions. Which was perfect, considering I had to do some sort of detention program for having run away. He charmed the pants off them, and made them believe that I would be seriously taken care of at the school and closely watched. All the while leaving out the small, little fact that the school was actually one for mutants. I all but kissed and asked him to marry me while he made the offer.

I looked over the crowd searching for one familiar face in the sea of a hundred unfamiliar ones. My eyes glanced quickly from one person to the next until I spotted the only man indoors wearing sunglasses. He seemed to spot me at the same time and flashed me a bright smile. I smiled back as he made his way over to us.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, Jayden. I hope your flight was okay and everything went well."

"Yes, the flight was fine. Jayden slept through most of it, though. She missed the gorgeous view as we were landing," my mother answered.

I shook my head slightly and he smiled at me. "Bad flight movie?"

"Some B-movie from the sixties with bad dialog, cheesy musical numbers and enough Aquanet in everyone's hair to sufficiently cover everyone in New York City. It was either sleep or shoot myself."

He smiled at me once again, causing my heart to skip a beat. I smiled back. "That bad huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, if you want, we can go get your bags and then head to the school. I'm sure you'll want a full tour so you can get a good idea of where Jayden will be living for the next few months. So we should probably go before it gets too late and the weather gets any colder."

"Sounds good to me," my father said, placing his arm around my shoulder and leading the way to the luggage carousal.

I had nine suitcases and bags altogether. Some with clothes and shoes, others with books, music and movies. It took nearly an hour just to gather them altogether. By the time we were hauling them all out to Scott's car, it was just past one in the afternoon.

The drive to the school wasn't too long, though. Scott made the time seem to pass by quickly. He was every parents dream, both as a son and as potential dating material for their daughters. He was attractive; he had the All American Boy look down pat. He was nice, polite, charming, smart, witty. He was basically the male version of what my parents had tried to mold me into. On the outside I may have been a match for him. But on the inside, there's weren't quite what they seemed.

* * *

The school was pretty big. And by pretty big, I mean abso-freakin-lutely massive. However, I was told to 'mind my language' when I said that as we pulled up to the gate. So after we met Professor Xavier, he and Mr. Summers gave us a tour of the school, and I was reduced to saying, Wow, this place is…big. So as not to get in anymore trouble.

'Big' did not even begin to describe the place, however. The institute was a mansion that had been converted into a school years before by the Professor. He had intended for it to be a small sanctuary for young people whose mutations were too much for them or their families to handle on their own. They were to come there and learn to control and use their gifts safely and properly. However, as it turns out, the 'small sanctuary' tuned into a full-blown school, allowing for nearly two hundred students to attend.

The showed us over the grounds, explained the different activities I could partake in both then and once the weather warmed up. Although I was somewhat interested in it, my mind was elsewhere. Horse stables, a swimming pool, tennis and basketball courts. It all sounded nice, but I just couldn't pay attention. Professor Xavier noticed this as we ended the tour in the school's foyer.

"Scott, why don't you take Jayden and show her the infirmary. You can introduce her to Dr. McCoy. Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, you can follow me into my office and we can further discuss Jayden's stay here."

"Yes sir. Jayden, if you'll follow me, I'll show you the medical bay and the infirmary," Scott said.

I followed him as he led me down a hall. The school was quiet. The Professor had explained that quite a few of the students had gone home for the holidays and had yet to return. While the others had gone into town to shop or see a movie.

Even thought I had only seen the school as it was, empty, I could feel the missing sound. The silence echoed off the walls, making me feel that it was perhaps one of the few times when the school truly ever saw a quietness like that. And though it was new to me, I somehow missed the noise.

The school was beautiful. The floors were hardwood that led up to wood paneling on the walls, which were covered in various and eclectic paintings. Everything looked so gorgeous and well placed that it was hard for me to imagine the disarray that it had been in just months before. The school had been under attack, leaving it with quite a bit of costly damage. But what may have cost them more was the loss of one of the teachers and Scott's wife, Jean Grey-Summers. Although she didn't die during the invasion, she had died in the events that built from it.

Scott led me into an elevator and pressed the button for the ground level.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"It's amazing. This place is huge and so gorgeous. I'm excited about it."

"Good."

"I just have one question, though."

"Yes?"

"Where's…um, where are the other teachers?"

"They had to go…_away_, for a few days. Some business in St. Tropez."

"X-Men business?"

I saw him smile from the corner of my eye. "You've heard about us?"

"I've seen you a few times. But I thought you were the team leader?"

He let out a sigh. "I am, but…you never know what might happen. I thought it would be a good idea to let another one of the members, Ororo, train. Just in case."

"So she's filling in for you in St. Tropez?"

"Yes. Her along with Logan and two of our junior members; Rogue and Bobby."

The elevator stopped and he stepped out. I didn't move. He turned to look at me. "Everything okay?"

"Rogue?"

"Yeah, that's what we call her. I'm not sure of her real name, but that's what she chooses to be called. Why?"

"Can you get in touch with them? I mean, is that possible?"

He looked at me quizzically. "Yeah, I can, but they should be back by tomorrow. It was just a small mission. Some flame throwing mutant was setting fire to people's crops and stuff. Why?" he asked again.

"Because she's going to get hurt. Badly hurt."

His brow furrowed in thought and his mouth was turned down in a frown. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I saw it."

"Hank, I need you to patch me into the Blackbird's com system. Now."

I followed Scott into the infirmary and immediately saw who he was referring to as Hank. A large man in slacks, a polo shirt and a white lab coat, who happened to be covered in blue fur, was making his way across the room to a computer system.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. His voice didn't quite seem to match his body. His voice was proper, dignified, intelligent. And yet he sort of resembled a giant Muppet. I wanted to stop and openly stare at him. Not out of rudeness, but out of fascination. I had never met, nor seen, a mutant who looked quite so different and unique.

"Unfortunately, I think so," Scott said. "Jayden, this is Dr. Henry McCoy. Hank, this is Jayden Rivers. She says she saw Rogue in a vision and that she might be in trouble."

Right. That's why we were there. There would be plenty of time to stare later.

"It's nice to meet you Dr. McCoy," I said as I reached his and Scott's sides beside the computer system.

He pushed a few buttons and handed a small phone like device to Scott who put it up to his ear.

"Call me Hank. 'Doctor' is a bit too stuffy for someone with fur, don't you agree?" He smiled at me, showing off abnormally large canine teeth, making them look like fangs. I smiled back. "Now tell me about this vision."

"Um…I fell asleep on the flight coming over and I saw…" I paused, trying to remember what happened first. "There was an explosion. I couldn't see for a little bit, then I heard a scream and smelled something burning. When I turned to look, Rogue's hair was on fire and her neck was burnt. I ran over to her -"

"_You_ did?" he questioned.

"Well, I was seeing it through Logan's eyes, so I felt like it was me. But I guess _he_ ran over to her. He tried to put the fire out, but she looked…pitiful. He took off one of her gloves and touched it to his face. I started to feel a bit of pain, but my mother woke me up to tell me that we had landed."

"They're not answering the Blackbird. I need to find an active com link," Scott said.

Immediately Dr. McCoy went to work, pressing buttons on the large computer. Images flashed across the screen faster than I could look at them, until suddenly it stopped on one with three green flashing pin points. He hit another key and Scott seemed satisfied, putting his attention back into the phone at his ear.

"Are you sure that's what you saw? Could it not have just been a dream? I've been told you've had quite a few visions of Logan, and some of Rogue. Is it possible that that could have been on your mind when you went to sleep? Airline food has been known to do more than just make you sick; sometimes it can cause odd dreams." He smiled at me again kindly.

I shook my head and smiled back at him politely. "No sir, it wasn't a dream. I know the difference. I just don't know if it's already happened or not."

"Storm, this is Scott, what's going on?"

Dr. McCoy and I both stopped and faced Scott listening to the one sided conversation until Hank hit another button, and a woman's voice came spilling over the invisible speakers.

"We're having a bit of a problem, Scott. Rogue got hit by the other mutant."

"Is she okay? Did she get hit badly?"

There was a small pause. "Yeah. Wolverine took care of it, though."

"How is he?"

"A little roughed up, but he'll be back to normal by tomorrow."

"Lucky us," Scott said dry and sarcastically. "What about the mission?"

"Mission accomplished. We just have to figure out a way to get Wolverine on the jet and we're coming home."

"I always said he was dead weight," Scott joked. I heard the woman laugh on the other end. "Okay, be careful."

"We will be."

"Oh, and Storm?"

"Yes?"

"If Logan wakes up, tell him that our new student's here."

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" my mom asked me.

After my too late information of the accident in St. Tropez, Scott and Dr. McCoy assured me that everything would be fine. Once Dr. McCoy was through showing off the infirmary and his lab to me, I went back upstairs with Scott. He seemed to be mentally bringing the Professor up to date on the situation as I talked to my parents.

"Yeah mom. I think it's going to be good for me here. I haven't met all of the teachers yet, but Mr. Summers, Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy seem to be very nice. Dr. Lewis told you that I needed this. I think it might help."

"You've never been gone away from us this long before, sweetheart. It's going to be lonely without you," my dad said.

"But at least you know where I'm at this time. You can call and write whenever you want, and you can make appointments to visit. Besides, the two of you need some alone time. Most kids my age are going to college, so just think of this as your practice for when I do, yeah? This is going to help; it's going to make me better."

"We're still going to miss you," my dad said.

I nodded my head. "I'm going to miss you, too. Both of you." My mother wiped at a tear running down her cheek. "Don't cry, mom, you'll make me cry. Look, you and dad need some time to yourselves. You haven't been alone for nearly sixteen years. Try to enjoy it."

"Our baby's an adult now; you're all grown up."

"I'm still your baby mom; I'm just on the other side of the country."

She pushed the dark brown hair away from my face. "It feels like the other side of the world."

"It'll go by fast, I promise. And it's not like I'm going to get into any trouble or anything. It's going to be okay."

"Alright then, let's get this over with quick and say goodbye before it sets in that you're really staying here and we're going home without you."

I hugged them both and gave them kisses. I told them how much I loved them and then we said goodbye.

As I watched them leave, I realized that they were going to miss me far more than I was going to miss them. They were my parents, they had adopted me when I was only four, but to be quite honest, I had never been very close to them. I had gone through the motions, just never the _emotions_. There had only been one person with whom I actually ever felt connected. The man from my visions. The one I chased after. Those two months had changed me forever. He was the only person I had ever felt close to, and yet he was a stranger. I hadn't seen him since I left Canada, and my heart felt it.

* * *

I had only had my room for a few hours, and hadn't wasted any time in getting it messy. There were piles of clothes, shoes, and books strewn about my floor. I was trying to get organized and put everything away properly, but I was having a serious attack of ADD. Every time I would try to concentrate on one thing, I would wind up doing something else. This only resulted in making the room even worse.

As I was making my fifth attempt to hang up my clothes in my closet and wardrobe, I heard a light knock on the door.

"Come in," I called out, halfway inside my closet.

I heard the door open. "How are you settling in?" Scott asked. "Uh…Jayden?"

I stepped out of my closet, my hair a mess and looking just frazzled in general. "Sorry. Trying to uh…hang some things up."

He smiled at me. "Well, we're about to have dinner, if you want to come join us?"

I looked around my room. It looked terrible. "Uh, yeah. This crap will still be here when I get done."

"You know, you're going to be _living_ here; it doesn't have to be perfect. You're eighteen; your room is supposed to be messy."

"Did you have a messy room when you were a teenager?"

He smiled at me once again, then shook his head. "No, if everything wasn't in its place, it bothered me," he said, then paused for a moment. "It still does, actually."

"Obsessive compulsive?"

"A little," he said. "Care to join me for dinner?"

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

I left my room and joined him in the hall, which we began to walk down. Everything was still so new and surreal to me. I had been invited to the school only a month before, and with the holidays, my mom's birthday, which happened to sit right between Christmas and New Years; I had barely had time to think about it.

Growing up in Northern California with my parents, I had been _slightly_ sheltered. Until I had ran away, I had only been out of the state once, and that was when I had lived in Canada with my birth mother. And you don't even want to get my started on that.

Anyway, up until my little 'adventure' stalking a stranger, my only views of the outside world were from the visions I had. I saw everything, from all different points of view. Amazing countries and different cultures. Great and terrible wars, some times from both sides. I saw love, hate, and all the gray areas that were in between. Sometimes it was just a flash, a vision so short it almost wasn't. Other times, they could stretch out, lasting all night long. There had been one vision of a woman that had lasted nearly three hours. But then I had to wake up and go on with a life that seemed unimportant. Misused. I felt like there was so much more out there, and I was confined to my house. When I ran away, I got to actually see some of the places from my visions. I was dong something. I was seeing things,_ real_ things. I had an experience that changed my life. I had never felt as free as I did then. But as I walked down the hall of the school for mutants, I had a feeling that I was only experiencing the beginning of a freedom that would change my life even further. At that moment, anything was possible.

When we reached the dining room, it looked completely different than it had only a few hours before. When Professor Xavier and Scott had shown it to us during the tour of the school, it had been empty.

Quiet.

Still.

But what I saw when he led me into the room for the second time that day was a bit overwhelming. What looked to be around a hundred and thirty to a hundred and fifty students filled the dining hall. I had gone to a small, all girls, private, preparatory school and I had never been around that many teenagers. Ever. Especially not ones that were loud and animated. All I could think was that I was glad that they hadn't been there when my parents had been. Otherwise my mother would have had a heart attack and booked me on the first flight home. Upon seeing them, I nearly did it myself.

"Don't worry; you'll get used to the noise. After a while you stop noticing it," Scott said to me, as if he knew what I was thinking. Then he flashed me a bright smile. I felt my cheeks flush hot, but I just nodded. "If you don't mind sitting with three boring guys, then you can sit at the staff table with the Professor, Hank and me."

I laughed. "That's fine."

He led me over to a large table that looked quite awkward with only two people sitting at it.

"Good evening Jayden," Dr. McCoy said as I sat down beside him.

"Good evening, sir."

"How is your unpacking going?"

"It's a mess. Everything's all over the floor. It's probably going to take the rest of the night for me to clean up."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it; you have time to get it all done."

"That's what I told her," Scott said, handing me a plate.

"Thank you," I said to him as I accepted the plate. "I'm not very good a messes, though. My parents have always been sort of…strict about how my room looked. I guess after enough time, their habits sort of became my own."

"Did you and your parents discuss perhaps you attending some college classes while you're here?" Hank asked.

I began to fill my plate with rice. "Um…no, sir, we didn't. I think they want me to go to college back home. But to be quite honest, I would really like to go somewhere here. I guess I'll just have to wait until the fall to decide."

"Do you have any idea about what you would want to study?" Professor Xavier asked.

"Yes sir. I really want to study forensic science. I thought about maybe working for a police station and doing crime scene investigations and stuff. But yeah, I've wanted to do that for a long time. For whatever reason."

"Henry used to lecture at a college, I'm sure if you wanted, he could get you the information you needed about studying that particular field," the Professor said.

"Absolutely. And if you're interested in science, you're more than welcome to help me in the lab whenever you want. I teach science and chemistry as well as mathematics, so I'm always looking for new ways to keep the kids interested in the lessons. You could help, if you would like? It might be good practice for this fall, if that's what you intend to study."

"Yeah, I would love that. I don't know how much actual help I'll be, but I could try."

"Good, it's settled then; you're my new assistant," he said, smiling at me. I smiled back. I liked him.

"Oh, Jayden, before I forget, I'm afraid that I won't be able to discuss and start working on your mutation until this weekend. The students will be coming back and I'll be preparing for next weeks lessons, but I promise that this Sunday we can start working on it."

I nodded at him, putting a piece of chicken on my plate. "That's fine. I don't mind."

"I thought it might also help for you to get settled in a bit before we started our lessons."

"Sounds good to me."

The four of us were quiet for a few minutes as we all ate. I was still trying to get used to both being somewhere new, even though I had seen the school countless times in my visions, as well as the noise of the room. I was used to noise in my head, in my mind, but that was a different kind of noise altogether. The food was good, though. Garlic grilled chicken, rice and black beans. Something my mother would never have made at home. She liked things simple: Out of a box, a drive through, the freezer. Every now and then, she would make a meatloaf, but it was always terrible. It was something my father and I never looked forward to.

"Your parents didn't say what kind of car you had back at home, but after dinner, I can show you around the garage and you can see if there's any car you like," Scott said.

"That would be nice, but unfortunately, I don't drive."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it kind of scares me a little bit."

"Maybe I could teach you, if you wanted?"

I smiled and blushed once again. "You know, I might take you up on that one."

He smiled at me and my heart skipped. This was not the same Scott Summers that I had seen broken and crying, falling against Logan and screaming that his wife wasn't dead. He was changed. And as much as I enjoyed being around him, I knew that his actions were false, forced. He looked pulled together and happy on the outside, but I knew he was still the same man I had seen in my vision on the inside. But to him, it was all about control. He controlled how everyone saw him, and that's how he wanted to keep it.

* * *

I woke the next morning in a sweat. Something felt odd. I didn't know what, something was just off. I sat up in bed and wiped at the perspiration on my forehead. I looked around my room. It was still unfamiliar, but nothing looked unusual.

"I didn't see him. I turned my back to look and check on Bobby, then I felt it start burnin' me," I heard someone say.

"How is that possible? The suits are flame retardant," Scott said.

He was in the hall just outside my door.

"The suits might be, but my hair and skin sure ain't, that's for sure," she quipped.

I recognized her accents. It was Marie. She was back. And if she was back, that meant that the rest of the team was, too.

Including Logan.

I jumped from my bed with surprising agility that I didn't know I had. I swung open my door, causing Scott and Rogue both to jump some. Adding on top of that the fact that I probably looked quite rough. I was in my pajamas and I could feel my hair protruding at odd angles from my head. I was sure I looked affright.

"Is he here? Is he okay?" I questioned.

"He's gonna' be fine. And yeah, he's here," Rogue answered.

I looked at her for a moment. I had seen her so many times in my visions; it was surreal to finally be able to see her for myself. As I was taking it all in, I noticed that she too was wearing pajamas.

"How long have you been back?"

"We got home at about midnight, or one," she said.

Again, as if Scott knew what I was thinking, he said, "He was unconscious. We didn't think you would want to be woken up just for that. He's down in the infirmary, if you want to go see him now, though. Hank's there, too." He smiled at me. "Oh, Rogue, this is-"

"Jayden. I know. I'm not blind, Scott," she teased. "It's nice to finally meet you." She reached out her hand, covered in a black glove. I took it and shook it.

"You too," I said.

"Maybe we can talk later. But right now I better let you go; Logan was pretty eager to see our new student," she said with a smile.

I nodded. "Do you want me to go with you, or do you think you can remember how to get there on your own?" Scott asked.

"I think I've got it figured out," I said. "Thanks, though."

"No problem. See you at breakfast," he said as I turned to leave.

"Alright, bye," I called back, jogging down the hall.

I knew that if I could make it down to the first floor, I could find my way to the infirmary on my own. I had had a vision of when Logan had first been brought to the school and found his way out of the medical bay. It was still pretty fresh in my memory, even though I had seen it months before. And that added to Scott showing me personally just the day before, I was pretty sure that it wouldn't be a problem.

Yeah right.

I made it to the first level under the school. Then I got lost. The entire mansion seemed to be made out of hallways. The lower levels, cold, gray, metal hallways. It was like a maze.

_Just stop and take a breath_, I thought to myself. _You're good at mazes. Just take a second to figure this one out. _

I stopped in one of the many empty halls, closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Images flashed by me, quickly, but long enough for me to see them clearly. The images happened to be of the school. Almost directions on how to get to the infirmary.

I opened my eyes and smirked to myself. _Okay, so you cheated a little bit. Just get out of here._

I turned and went back down the hall from where I had just come. With the new images in my mind, I had no problem finding the medical bay. When I entered, I saw Hank sitting at a desk. He looked up and saw me, then smiled.

"Good morning Jayden, how are you today?"

"I'm doing very well sit, thank you. Is Logan-" I started as he pointed into the next room that was connected by a Plexiglas wall.

I saw a man lying on a medical table. He was covered to his waist with a sheet and his chest, arms and hands had various bandages on them. All with blood soaked through them. There were tubes in his nose, and from what I could tell; an IV in his forearm. He was hooked up to an EKG monitor and I could hear its rhythmic beeping. There was an emotion that was so unfamiliar that was welling up inside of me as I stood there looking at him, I couldn't identify it.

"Can I go in and see him?" I asked.

"He may not wake up for a while yet, but you may go in and see him, if you like."

"Thank you." I walked to the door that led to the next room and stopped just outside of it. There was no handle. I turned to Dr. McCoy to ask him.

"Press the button on the side," he said, looking over and smiling at me once again, before I could even open my mouth to ask. "I apologize for not mentioning it before. But for the future, most doors in the school have a button to open them so that Charles can get through them."

"Right," I said, wondering why I hadn't thought of it sooner. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome. Now check on my patient for me, would you?"

I smiled and nodded at him. "Alright."

I pressed the button to the right of the door and with a 'whoosh' it slid open. I entered the room and it closed behind me. I slowly walked to the table and stared down at the man laying on it. His body was unmarred by scars. I suppose that was your curse and girl when your mutation was a healing factor faster than any humans. His body produced a high number of a type of white blood cells. They attacked and found any virus or ailment that entered his body immediately. If he got hurt, they worked to replace the injury. Stitching it up almost as soon as it happened. I was fascinated by the scientific part of it, even as young as I was. But more so, I was fascinated by him. That was on a more personal level, though.

I carefully and gently ran my hand down his arm. I had always known the difference between reality and my visions, but it still amazed me when the two seemed to merge and things from my visions became real, solid life. And that's what he was right then; real.

I picked up his hand and held it in both of mine. It was large and heavy. Even thought it was limp, I could feel the strength in it. The strength that I had once felt holding my own hands. Making me feel safe.

"Hey kid," he mumbled.

I looked at him and smiled. "Hey furry-face," I said, laying his hand down beside him. "How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a train."

"Well, just so you know, you look worse than you feel."

He coughed out a laugh. "Thanks," he said sarcastically.

"I saw Marie get hurt," I said, turning the conversation around, suddenly making it serious. "I was too late it telling anyone, though. By the time they got in touch with all of you, they said that you were already out."

"Don't worry about it darlin', we're both fine now."

"But I should have said something sooner, I just didn't think."

"Have your visions gotten better or worse?"

I shrugged. "I don't have the painful ones anymore; I haven't had one of those since we were in Canada. But…there's pretty much one every night now. They're not so bad, though."

"Good. How do you like it here so far?"

"I've only been here for one day just yet, but I think I like it. Everyone seems nice. I like Scott." He gave me a disgusted look. "What? He's nice. He offered to teach me how to drive."

"He ain't gonna' teach you nothing."

"That's a double negative. That means he is going to teach me something."

"I don't care what it is. One; Summers ain't 'nice', and two; he sure ain't gonna' be teachin' my daughter how to drive."

Another thing my parents didn't know; the man that I had run away to Canada to find and spent nearly two months with was the school's self defense teacher.

He also happened to be my biological father.


	2. The First Break

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or Fox, because if I did, X3 would have never happend the way it did. This is my first time writing Beast, so I hope all of the Beast fans don't throw eggs at me; I tried. Also, this is the second time I've ever written a sequel, so I hope it doesn't suck as bad as the last one. I hope ya'll enjoy and please review and tell me if I need to change something.

* * *

"How's Logan?" Scott asked as I walked into the kitchen later that morning.

"Awake and grumpy," I said, sitting on a stool across from him. There was an island in the middle of the room and that's where we were sitting.

"So back to normal, huh?"

I laughed. "Yeah."

"What's it like?" he asked, staring at me through his glasses.

"What's what like?"

"Seeing him again now that you know he's your father?"

I shrugged. "A little weird, I guess. I mean, it'll probably take a while for it to sink it. But despite being a pompous jackass at times…I actually like him. He's not a bad guy, just…not a nice one." I let out a sigh. "He needs a haircut, though. He's getting _too_ furry."

"I'll have you know, I had a haircut just last week," Dr. McCoy teased as he walked into the kitchen.

"Sorry Hank. I think the furry, pompous jackass she was referring to wasn't you think time. We were talking about Logan," Scott said with a smile.

"Ah, yes," he said, digging into the refrigerator. "Who's hungry?"

"I'm not," Scott said, standing. "I'm going to go out to the garden for a little while." Then he left the kitchen.

"Jayden?"

"Uh, sure."

"Great. Have you ever had crepes?"

"No sir, I don't think so."

"Well then, that's what I shall make us for breakfast." He was quiet for a moment as he began to gather things from the refrigerator. "You," he said, setting out a carton of eggs, "when Scott told me that you looked like Logan, I didn't believe him. I was right; you're much prettier."

I laughed. "Thank you."

"Actually, you remind me of Maria Schneider."

"Who?"

"She was a French actress in the seventies. Have you ever seen the movie 'The Last Tango in Paris'?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I never much cared for the movie, myself. She and Marlon Brando stared in it. He was fabulous. They should have centered the movie more on him." I smiled at him. "This is something about you that reminds me of Logan, though. I think perhaps it's the eyes. They're the same as his. Though you make them look much more beautiful than he does."

My smile widened. "Thank you, sir."

"What is it with this 'sis' nonsense? I'm not quite old enough for that just yet."

"Sorry, my parents were quite insistent that I say 'sir' and 'ma'am' growing up. It's a habit."

"Well, you can call me Henry or Hank. No Mr. McCoy, Dr. McCoy, or _sir_."

"Why would you want to become a doctor if you don't like people to call you that?"

"I became a doctor because I enjoyed the thought of being able to learn and study to be one. Not because of the name. I wanted to help people. And I don't mind the students calling me doctor, but you are my assistant, are you not? Should I start calling you Miss Rivers?"

I shook my head and laughed. "No, that's fine."

"Good. Now, do you know how to scramble eggs?"

"I think so."

He showed me how to crack an egg with one hand. I wasn't quite as graceful as he was the first few times, but he fished out the little pieces of shell patiently and told me to try it again until I got it right. Then we added in grated cheese and diced onions and tomatoes. I poured it into a skillet and attempted scrambling them without messing them up too badly.

"You're lettin' _her_ cook?" Logan said, walking into the kitchen.

"Shut up. I was distracted last time, it doesn't count."

The last time I had attempted cooking anything was when Logan and I had been in Canada, right before I had found out who he was and left. I had tried making chili. We ended up eating three minute noodles with Slim Jims cut up in them. But the events that led up to that involved my real mother's husband, a fire, me accidentally burning myself, an annoying smoke alarm, and Logan throwing an entire pot out our motel room window. The pot had included our sufficiently burnt soup-like chili.

"Just don't burn yourself this time," he said, grabbing a cup from a shelf and pouring himself coffee.

"Yeah, since I did it on purpose last time," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, don't talk to me like that; I'm your father. Show some respect," he said with a smirk and a wink.

I laughed. "Is this how all of our arguments are going to be from now on? You know my own father doesn't even throw that one up to me."

"You actually argue with your parents? Or is that on the list of things you ain't allowed to do, either?"

"Hardy-freakin-har, you're just too funny," I said dryly, then went quiet as I watched my eggs carefully, making sure that they didn't burn. Hank was beside me, making the crepes, then putting them onto a plate when they were done, before making more.

"So?" Logan said.

"So _what_?" I asked, turning to look at him sitting at the island, on the same stool where Scott had been.

"_Do_ you argue with your parents, or are you not allowed to?"

"No," I said, exasperated, "I don't argue with them. But not because I'm not allowed to, I just think it's a bit…rude."

"Really?" he said with a condescending tone.

"You've been conscious for like, an hour; don't you have something better to do besides pick on me and the fact that I actually have manners? I mean, come on dude, can't the insults wait until tomorrow? Or until I've at least eaten something?"

He looked at me and licked the front of his teeth. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"May I inquire as to how the two of you actually spent two months with one another?" Hank asked.

"She slept most of the time."

"I did not. It's just that when I was awake, you were off fighting in bars. And you're just upset because I actually did sleep some. You fought, drove, ate, and laid in bed for four hours a night, pretending to sleep. Maybe that's why you were so cranky all the time."

"I'm not cranky."

"Yes you are. You're one of the crankiest people I've ever met. And ill-tempered and rude."

"That's 'cause you're used to hangin' around with cheerleaders." He smirked.

"I'm never talking to you again, okay? Because I don't know why I even told you anything to begin with."

"And besides, the reason why I didn't sleep was 'cause you'd be singin' all night, keepin' me awake."

"_Hum_, I hum, not sing. And it's not my fault; I can't get to sleep unless I do."

He smirked at me again. "I thought you weren't gonna' talk to me anymore?"

"You're evil, you know that?"

"Watch your eggs, kid."

I was quite proud of myself; I successfully cooked something without burning it. As a matter of a fact, not only were they not burnt, they were actually quite good. When Hank and I had finished cooking, the whole staff was up and in the kitchen. Everyone except for Scott, who was still outside. I had wondered to begin with why we were cooking so much: A dozen scrambled eggs, three plates full of crepes with cream cheese filling, a package of bacon and sausage each, and he let me help him make a giant bowl of fruit salad. Then they came in and I realized; we had cooked for everyone. Yes, that may sound quite stupid that the whole time we were cooking, I thought that we were cooking for just the two of us. But Hank is a big man. _Very big_. And to be quite honest, I didn't know how much food the man could pack away when he was hungry.

I was introduced to Ororo Munroe and Bobby Drake, and I got to speak to Rogue more while we ate. I felt quite odd at times, during certain conversations, because I didn't know what was going on. Logan and Hank did the best that they could to help include me, but the truth was, I barely knew those people.

"Uh…where's Scott? Should I go tell him that this is done?" I asked.

"Scott's out in the garden. He'll come in when he wants," Logan said.

"Don't snap at her Logan; she's just tryin' to be nice," Rogue defended.

"What's in the garden that's so important? I mean, it has to be nearly freezing out."

"There's a memoriam out there for his wife Jean, who passed away last year-" Hank started to explain.

"She knows who Jean is," Logan cut him off, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

When I had stayed with Logan, he had never liked for me to bring up Jean. I hadn't really known who she was, only that he had been deeply in love with her and she had died.

"There's a memoriam out there for Jean, and he sits out there everyday and visits it," Hank finished.

I nodded and noticed that aside from Logan, who seemed upset and angry by the whole conversation, everyone else looked very solemn. I could feel that the subject still pained them. Jean had been their friend as well, and the months since her death held little healing for them. Talking about her being gone still hurt.

* * *

Four days after first arriving at the institute, I had my first meeting with Professor Xavier about my mutation. Hank was sitting in on my session and Logan had come with me. Whether he was there out of concern and moral support, or to poke fun and make sarcastic comments remained to be seen.

"Good afternoon Jayden, how are you doing?" the Professor asked as I took the seat in front of his desk.

Logan plopped down in the seat next to Dr. McCoy with a 'whoosh'.

"I'm…okay. A little nervous, anxious, excited."

"Good. Shall we begin, then?"

I nodded. "Yes sir."

"Your mutation is known as clairvoyance. It comes from the combination of two French words which mean 'clear seeing'. It's the art of 'seeing' with senses beyond the five we normally use. It's a sixth sense. Whereas Logan's senses are heightened, you have an extra one. It's connected to the right side of the brain, which is where the feminine, creative and intuitive aspects lie. That allows for you to see images that can be a shape, or colors. Still or animated. Or even last for just a few seconds to some that may last longer. What you 'see' may actually last longer than however long you are sleep, or in your state of unconscious because your brain is using both your conscious and _subconscious_ parts of your mind, allowing for more information to be processed faster. What may seem like a vision that lasts an hour, may, in reality, only last a minute. You may 'see' these images or visions with your eyes open or closed."

"Wow," I said, staring at the Professor, my mouth slightly agape. "That's it exactly."

"It works best when you set aside time each day to rest and meditate. You need to have time to yourself away from everything else. You also need to have an independent perspective and exercise your imagination. Independent perspective is very important. You need to have a good sense of who you are and not worry about seeking approval of others. If you worry too much about people approving of you, your clairvoyance can be suppressed. Sometimes you may be 'turning down' your abilities or order to find acceptance. That's one of the reasons why I invited you to stay here; I thought that if you were in a more accepting environment, such as this school, you may feel less…ashamed or scared of your gifts, and therefore might be able to learn to control and use them properly," Professor Xavier continued. "While clairvoyance is the ability to see things, there are components that help to make it up. Two of which are Retrocognition, also called Postcognition, and Precognition. Retrocognition is the ability to know about an event after its occurrence without direct observation of the evens of which you've seen. The common feeling of 'déjà vu', meaning 'familiar feeling', is sometimes thought to be a low level form of Retrocognition. Precognition is the opposite. Knowing about events _before_ they happen. In both cases, the visions are usually seen as a movie or through one of its participants. Most people with clairvoyance cannot reproduce the images at will and know that the flashes occur spontaneously. Another is clairsentience. It's the knowing of something by your feelings. It's a strong sense of knowing by intuition. The last is clairaudience. It's the ability to _hear_ an event, but not seeing or feeling anything about it. Clairvoyance is also what some people refer to as 'single minded telepathy', as it allows you to connect to another person's mind. I believe that before, when you were having such a terrible time with your visions and seeing Logan so much was because your minds were, and still are, very strongly connected."

I blinked at him, then looked over at Logan. He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Wow," I finally said. "That's a lot and oddly…all right. I mean, that's it. That's me. What do I need to get it under control, though?"

"Meditate. That's the most important thing that you can do. You need to be in a relaxed state, both in body and mind, in order to allow for you to get the natural feel of your powers. You won't be able to will yourself to have a vision, but you will gain the ability to control them. Most visions are just types of a person's energy floating around, looking for a mind to latch themselves onto. But some, however, are purposefully directed at you. You will learn to filter out which visions are important and which are just clutter floating through your mind."

"I don't know how to meditate; I've never done it before."

"I'm sure that Logan would be more than happy to teach you."

"Yeah, I think I can handle that one, Chuck," Logan said with a bit of a gruff laugh.

"Good, Logan can help you with that, and we can have a standing appointment every Sunday for the first few weeks to discuss your improvement."

I let out a deep sigh. "Sounds good to me, sir. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Jayden. And unless Henry has something to add, I do believe that we're done. Henry?"

"No, I believe you covered everything."

"Alright, you can go now if you would like," Xavier said right as the phone was ringing. He answered it and then handed it to me. "It's for you, Jayden."

I took it and put the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey sweetheart, how are you?"

"Hey daddy," I said. Logan let out a small, barely audible growl and looked irritated at me. I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm doing really well. How are you and mom doing?"

"Well, we miss you."

"I miss you, too," I lied. He growled again, only louder. I mouthed for him to 'shut up'. That only seemed to irritate him more.

"How do you like it so far?"

"I _really_ like it here. Everyone's really nice. Well, everyone except for the self-defense teacher; I think he's a psycho killer." I heard Hank stifle a laugh, but Logan heard him and turned his grows on him.

"You're not getting into only trouble are you?"

"Me, in trouble?" I laughed. "I'm far too good of a child to get into trouble. You know that, dad."

He laughed. "I didn't think so, but you're mother made me ask anyway."

"No, I'm actually trying really hard to stay out of trouble."

"Good. Are you making any new friends?"

"Yeah, a few. Dr. McCoy is going to let me help out in the lab some and with some of his classes. I think it'll be really good practice for when I go to college this fall."

"Good," he said, and let out a sigh. "Well, your mother and I just wanted to check on you. We wanted to make sure that everything's going well."

"Yeah, everything's fine."

"Good. Just let me talk to Professor Xavier for a little bit, okay?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Be good and we miss you."

"I will be."

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too daddy. And tell mom I said I love her, too."

"I will. Bye baby."

"Bye," I said, handing the phone over to the Professor. "He wants to talk to you, sir, so I'm going to leave in case the two of you need to speak privately."

"Alright, thank you, Jayden."

I stood and left the office. Half way down the hall, Logan caught up with me. I looked over at him, but he didn't seem too chatty. Actually, he looked quite angry.

"What's wrong with you? I mean, aside from the obvious," I asked as we kept walking. He seemed to have taken over the lead from me, so I followed him.

"Oh, I miss you too, _daddy_," he said, mocking me. He then let out a low growl.

"Why do you care what I say to my father? Or what I call him, for that matter."

"Well, for one, why do you put on a front when you talk to them? Didn't you hear what Chuck said to you in there? You can't worry about what other people think of you."

I rolled my eyes. "That's easier said than done, you know? I've grown up being who they wanted me to be, I can't just change all of a sudden. It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it just doesn't, okay? That's how I've acted nearly my whole life and it's easier to just do what they want and make them happy."

"Even if it doesn't make you happy? Even if it hurts you?"

"I'm working on it, alright? I'm doing the best that I know how, so if you could show just a little support, that would be nice. Since you are technically my father, now."

"Not accordin' to how you were talkin' on the phone."

"Are you mad because I told my dad that I thought you were a psycho killer? It was just a _joke_."

"No, just forget it, kid."

I thought for a moment before it hit me. "You're mad because I was talking to my father while you were in the room, aren't you? You're mad because I don't treat you like I treat him." He didn't say anything. "He did _raise_ me, you know? Both of my real parents, you _and_ my mother, chose to give me up. You weren't there at all. But they _chose_ me. They could have adopted a baby, but they didn't, they picked _me_. So don't get pissed at me for the decisions you made."

"I didn't send you to an orphanage, alright? Your mother did."

"No, you left me in a bathroom stall of a bar with my mother after she had just given birth to me. She at least waited three years before screwing me over. You did it right from the start," I said. "As a matter of a fact, I'm not even sure why _you're_ mad at _me_; I should be mad at you!"

"I just don't understand the point of you bein' here if you're still gonna' suck up to them."

"Well, the point was supposed to be so that I could spend time with you. But now that I think about it, I'm actually still quite pissed at you."

"Well let me grab a trumpet and play 'Taps' for you, kid, 'cause that's just gotta' be the saddest thing I've ever heard," he said sarcastically.

"Screw you. You are such a jerk."

"Well you're just like me darlin', so get used to it."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Not always."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "When?"

"When I'm 'sucking up' to my parents," I said with a smirk.

He let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that you didn't get from me."

"So where are we going?"

"Meditation room."

"There's a meditation room?" I asked, cocking my own eyebrow at him.

"Yeah. It's soundproof; you can focus better that way."

"You know, I never thought about you meditation; you never seemed the type."

"Yeah, I picked it up when I lived in Japan."

"How long did you live there?"

"I don't know."

"Do you remember much about it?"

"No. None of the good at least."

I nodded my head. He had been married when he lived in Japan. His wife had been expecting a child. Their first. He had been given a test, to prove his worthiness as a father. He was meant to dodge attacks from so many of the village warriors, but wasn't allowed to show any violence towards them. It was more of a dance than anything. Just knowing all the proper moves. But something had happened. A noise had caused him to pop his claws. And for that, he was exiled from the village, deemed unfit for fatherhood. It wasn't until he heard screams and smelled blood did he go back. Once he got there, everything had been killed. Except for his wife. She was still alive, but barely so and suffering terribly. She asked Logan to save her from the pain and to kill her. He did. He lost his wife, his child, and after wandering around the mountains and wilderness in Japan, he once again lost his free will and along with it, more of his memory. That's what he remembered of his time in Japan. And I had seen all of it.

The meditation room was just outside of the gym. It was white and had padded walls to absorb the sound; making it sound proof.

"It looks like a padded cell for a crazy person," I said, looking around at it.

"That's why Chuck lets me in here."

I smiled at him. "So what are we supposed to do? Sit on the floor with our legs crossed and make weird chanting sounds?"

"All except the chanting part," he said, sitting on the floor. He began taking of his boots.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, sit down."

I sat down on the floor in front of him. "Now what?" I asked, pulling off my flip-flops.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Why are you wearing sandals with a sweatshirt and jeans?"

"Because I don't like wearing real shoes. That means I have to wear socks and socks make my feet nervous."

"What do you mean it makes your feet nervous? That doesn't make any sense."

I shrugged. "I don't care; they just get nervous in socks unless they're cold."

"It's winter," he deadpanned.

"And you're digressing."

He let out a sigh. "Right," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Cross your legs, sit up straight and put your hands on your thighs; palms up." I did as he said, and he nodded, showing his approval. "Now, just close your eyes and breathe."

"That's it? Just close my eyes?"

"And breathe."

"Well yeah; I'm not quite dumb enough to stop breathing."

He shook his head. "No. The breathin' part is important. You gotta' concentrate on it. That's your focus."

"That doesn't seem too hard."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "This comin' from someone who hardly ever shuts up," he said. I rolled my eyes at him. "You have to try and not think. Just focus on your breathin'. If you start thinkin' about something, just stop and go back to breathin'. You might fall asleep, but don't worry about it. Just concentrate and try to get your focus back on track."

"Okay, I'll try."

"Alright. We'll try ten minutes for right now. So close your eyes and breathe."

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate very closely on my breathing. It was a lot harder than I thought. It was complicated trying not to think. I kept thinking about not thinking. Then my attention would turn on trying not to think. Which didn't work. I couldn't just relax and make my mind completely blank. If this was the only way that I was going to be able to control my powers; I was afraid that I was attempting the impossible.

"You look tense," I heard Logan say, breaking the long silence. Apparently our ten minutes had passed.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "I'm having a hard time not thinking. My mind won't go blank."

He stared at me. "That's 'cause you _can't_ make your mind blank; it doesn't work. You just gotta' learn how to focus."

I fell back, lying on the floor. "This is what I get for saying that this was going to be easy, isn't it? This is my punishment; complicating the one thing that involves sitting and breathing. I'm never going to get it right."

"Not if you keep actin' like that. This is just like anything else; it gets easier the more you do it. So we're gonna' be doin' it everyday."

I lifted my head and looked at him. "Excuse me? _Every_day? You have a job, you're part of the X-Men, and you have a _life_; where are you going to find time to squeeze _me_ in?"

"Two thirty, every afternoon."

"Seriously?"

"Look, you didn't come all the way out here for me to spend all my time teachin' or hangin' out with Scooter in the Danger Room. I asked Chuck to bring you out here so that we…"

"So that we could what?"

"I don't know, kid."

I sat up and stared at him. "Say my name."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "What?"

"I want to hear you say my name. Just once."

He stared back at me for a moment. "Jayden." I shook my head. "What?" he asked again.

"I just don't understand."

"Understand what?"

I shrugged. "That week in Canada, when you had left me and I was alone and I found my mother, my real mother, and I saw her again… There was nothing. No connection. When she said my name, it was empty. Like she didn't even know me. When she talked to me, there was nothing there. When I saw how she felt about me, why she had given me away, it…it sort of made sense. I had always just been a mistake to her. Not a child, especially not _her_ child, not even a person. She just treated me like a blemish on an otherwise perfect record; as a disgusting thing that she didn't want to be associated with. I was always just a mistake."

"What don't you understand about that?"

"That I get. What I don't get is why you're different? There's something there when you say my name. But it's not disgust. After you realized who I was, you still didn't change. Why? Why did you want me to come here? No one had to know that you had kid. I had only told one person, my psychiatrist, and he's not allowed to tell anyone. You could have left me alone completely. I was your mistake, too. Why not do the same?"

He let out a deep breath. "You're not a mistake, kid. I don't care how you were born, what your mother thought about you, you're mine, and that ain't a mistake."

I shook my head. "But why…" A tear slid down my cheek and I wiped it away. "Why do you see that and not her? She was my _mother_. You're, and no offense, not exactly who comes to mind when I think 'father figure'. You don't like being attached to people. You hate settling down. But look at what you're doing for me. Why couldn't she do this?" I took the sleeves of my hoodie and tried to dry away the tears running hot down my cheeks.

"I don't know, darlin'," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know. But I thought you didn't care anymore? You weren't gonna' waste anymore of your life on her? What made you start thinkin' about it?"

"Well, while I was trying _not_ to think, I happened to think about her. I was thinking about what the Professor said about not worrying about what others thought of me and not seeking their approval. I said I don't care about her, but there's a piece of me that's held onto her for so long, I _do_ still care what she thinks about me, because it still hurts. But I don't know how to let it go and get over it."

"Chuck said that you and him are gonna' meet and talk about stuff every Sunday, talk to him about it, he'll know how to help you."

I nodded my head and dabbed at my tears again. "Okay."

"Come here," he said and pulled me to him, hugging me. "You're gonna' get this figured out, alright?" I nodded. "And I'm gonna' take care of you, so don't worry about it."

"Do you think that me finding you was a coincidence, or do you think the Professor was right when he said that our minds are connected?"

"I don't know, but Chuck usually knows what he's talkin' about, so I wouldn't doubt it."

I pulled away from him. He wiped the few stray tears from my face. I shook my head. "This is so weird."

"What is?"

"You, me…us. I've wondered all of my life who my father was, and then when I found out it was you, I was used to you as someone else. Not as my father."

"Who were you used to me as?"

I shrugged. "A friend. I don't know. It's hard for me to get my mind around just yet. It's very…weird, don't you think? I mean, did you ever think you had a kid somewhere?"

"I don't remember much, I don't know what I have anymore."

"The past is behind us, the future is uncertain, all we ever have is now."

He looked at me and a small smile crept across his lips. "Yeah, you are my kid," he said with a bit of a laugh. "Not many people think like that."

"Shame," I said. "Maybe then people would be able to do what they wanted. Everyone's always so worried about the past or future that we completely forget to live in the present."

"How'd you figure it out?"

"You see enough of the past or the future; you want to stay as grounded in the present as possible." I let out a sigh and sniffled.

We were quiet for a long while, just staring at each other. Silence didn't scare him and that was something I was trying to learn from him.

He was also extremely at ease with himself. I didn't understand how; he was one person who didn't know his past and yet he knew exactly who he was. He didn't care about what other people thought of him. That was also something about him that I was trying to emulate.

He was strong, too. More so than even he let on. Most people thought that when he got hurt, he didn't feel pain. But that was very far from the truth. He felt all of the pain. He just didn't show it. Showing pain was like showing weakness. But I had seen him in pain. Physical and emotional. He hid it all, though. They very few who had seen inside his head knew how badly he hurt. Even though I was one of them, at times even I could forget. That's how good he was at it.

"It's so quiet in here, I can hear my heartbeat," I said. "Can you hear yours?"

"Yeah, and I can hear yours, too."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Have you ever read Poe's 'A Tell Tale Heart'?"

"Who's Poe?"

He blinked at me. "Edger Allen Poe."

"Oh, right. No, I've never read anything of his. I always wanted to read 'The Raven' when I was younger, but my parents told me that I shouldn't."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Why?"

"Well, they thought that one; the poem would scare me. And two; that he was a depressed suicidal man that would probably influence me badly." I shrugged. "So no, I've never read that before. What's it about?"

"A crazy guy who works for this man whose blind in one eye. Over time he starts thinkin' that it's evil and decides to kill him 'cause of it. So he kills him and cuts him up into little pieces and puts him under the floorboards. Then the police come and talk to him, but after a while, he starts hearin' the old man's heartbeat. It keeps getting' louder and louder until finally it drives him even more insane and he rips up the floorboards and tell 'em what he did."

"Wow. No wonder my parents didn't want me to read him; that probably would have scared me when I was younger."

He scratched the back of his head. "I think Hitchcock made a movie out of it."

"Yeah, I wasn't allowed to watch him either."

He shook his head at me. "I got one of his books in my room."

"Hitchcock?"

"No, Edger Allen Poe."

"Oh, sorry."

"If you wanna' read it, you can."

"Really?" I asked, sounding a little surprised.

"Yeah, if you want."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I'd love to."

"I'll try to find it tonight."

"Okay."

He looked at his watch. "You hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go get something to eat."

The kitchen was empty, except for Hank, who was half way in the freezer. A few moments later, he emerged, holding a Coke in one hand and a Twinkie in the other.

"Good afternoon Logan, Jayden. Care for a frozen Twinkie?"

"No, I think I'll pass, but thank you, though," I said.

"Alright, well, I have quite a bit of work to do; I'll see the two of you at dinner."

"Bye Hank," I said as he walked past us.

"Bye."

Logan walked past me to the refrigerator and when I looked at him, my sight shifted. Everything went blank. When my sigh slid back into focus, I was no longer in the kitchen.

I was outside.

It was nice.

I was cold.

I looked down at the snow covered ground and saw a man lying there, blood soaked into the snow where he lay. He was covered in snow and blood.

Nothing else.

I stood there, staring at him.

In the cold.

And then he stirred.

Slowly, very slowly, he began to wake. He lifted his head and I saw the look of confusion and panic ran across his face. It was the first time I had ever seen Logan look that way.

He began to push himself up, off the ground. But standing proved difficult. Walking was worse. His legs weren't stable. He stumbled.

He didn't know where he was, or why or even how he had gotten there. Even more, he didn't know how long he had been there.

He looked down at the ground. He saw the blood. Then he looked at his hands. There, protruding from his bloodstained hands, were his claws. A look of a more extreme confusion and panic flashed across his eyes.

He looked closely at the claws and saw specs of gore hanging and clinging to the metal.

He looked scared.

He searched around him. Even though it was dark, he could still see well. Only a few feet behind him, there lay what resembled the bottom half of a body. A few feet from it was the top.

He began walking through the snow. One body. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. There were seven bodies, strewn about the cold, frozen ground. Most weren't all together. Parts of them lay in another part of the wood.

He continued to walk. Then he found the eighth body. It was a boy. He was in a soldier's uniform but didn't look more than fourteen.

He fell down to his knees. Then he tilted his head back and let out a loud howl of anguish.

I felt it run through me. It reverberated through my body. I could hear it echoing off the mountains.

I looked into his eyes and the pain that I saw there made me scream, because I felt it, too.

My sight began to shift once again. Everything went blank. And then I was back in the kitchen. But I wasn't standing. I was on my knees, in the floor. My hands were covering my ears. It took me a moment to realize that I was actually screaming.

I saw Logan in front of me. I saw him mouthing words, but I couldn't hear him over my own screams. I wanted to stop, but I still felt the pain, his pain, and I didn't know any other way to deal with it.

"Jayden!" I heard him yell over me.

The pain stopped. My screams stopped. And I was on my knees, on the floor, shaking.

He grabbed me, held me to him, and tried to still my shaking. "Just calm down, darlin', or you're gonna' hurt yourself," he whispered to me.

"What's happened?" Hank asked, running into the kitchen.

"She had a vision, she's fine," Logan told him.

"I heard her screaming all the way down the hall."

"I know. She's fine, though. She's gonna' be alright."

His attempts to keep me still were rendered pointless, as I continued to shake violently in his arms. Every time I shook and jerked, it felt unnatural and hurt. I tried to grit my teeth and pull through it, but I couldn't help the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Let me look at her," Hank said.

"What's going on in here?" I heard Scott ask. He, along with Ororo and Marie, had run into the kitchen to see what was wrong as well.

"It's Jayden; she's fine, just go away!" Logan barked.

I felt Hank's hand on my shoulder. "Jayden, can you hear me?" he asked. I turned my head towards him and nodded. "Has this happened before?"

I shook my head. "Not…like…this…" I said through my shaking.

Logan stroked my hair. "Come on, darlin', you're gonna' be alright," he whispered to me.

"How has it been before?"

"I've…" I shook my head. "I've…never…done…_this_," I said. "There…there was…_snow_ this time."

"Snow?" Hank asked, confused.

I heard Logan swear. He took off his zip up sweatshirt and then wrapped it around me. He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me. Everyone stood still, watching his odd behavior, until my shaking slowly began to subside. After a couple of minutes, I was fine. A little sore, but otherwise fine.

"But I…I don't understand," Hank said.

"Neither do I," I said, slightly out of breath. I handed Logan his sweatshirt back.

"But what did you mean when you said there was snow?" he asked.

"In my vision, there was snow. Logan was…out in it. It was freezing. Sometimes when I have visions, whatever happened to Logan, happens to me."

"Amazing."

"And painful," I said, pulling myself up and standing. I saw Scott, Ororo, and Marie standing in the doorway staring at me. Behind them was a group of students, wanting to see what all of the commotions was about. "I'm not hungry," I told Logan quietly as Logan stood up beside me. "I'm going to go to my room for a while."

As I moved from the room, the students scattered as if they were scared of me. I shook my head and hurried as fast as I could away from them. They didn't have any reason to be scared of me. My powers couldn't hurt them. Just me.

I went to my room and sat in my chair, staring out the window. After a few minutes, I saw Logan driving away in one of the school's cars. I watching him drive all the way to the school gates, but then he disappeared from my view.

Even he wanted to get away from me.


	3. Through My Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything, Marvel, Fox, or otherwise. But I do have to go to a five year old's birthday party at Chucky Cheese', so wish me luck. I hope ya'll enjoy the next chapter. I've only gotten two reviews so far, does it really suck that badly?

* * *

I had been sitting in my room, staring out at the snow covered front grounds for about forty minutes when there was a knock on my door.

"Yeah, come in," I called.

I heard my door open. "Hey, just checking on you."

I turned my head and saw Scott standing in my doorway. "Hey." I forced a small smile. "Thanks. I'm okay."

"That seemed pretty rough down there, are you sure?"

"Yeah. I've only had a few like that, but that one wasn't the worst."

He nodded. "Mind if I come in?"

"No, it's fine. Come in."

He walked in and pushed the door halfway closed. He came over to the seat next to mine and sat down. "How long have you been seeing things like that?"

I curled up tighter in my chair. "Like where it hurts?"

"Yeah."

I let out a sight. "Six months, maybe? They never hurt before I met Logan, but…there are some things that I've seen happen to him that are just so painful, that it translates after I wake up, or the vision ends."

"I talked to Xavier; he said that the two of you had your first session today. Maybe the two of you can work that one out."

"Yeah, I hope so."

"He said it went well today, though."

"Yeah. He just told me what my powers were and explained how I could help get them under control. He told me to meditate, but Logan showed me how to do it, and it's not as easy as I thought."

He smiled at me. His smile always seemed to warm me. "Don't force it. Just allow whatever happens to happen. It's just to calm and relax you. If you're forcing your body to do something, you're not going to relax and it won't happen. Just think of it as 'you' time."

I smiled back at him. "I'll try that. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He looked around at my room. "You have a lot of books," he said. "Do you like reading, or is it something your parents try to get you interested in?"

"Oh no, that one's actually all me. They try to lean me towards certain topics, but reading's been pretty much the one thing that's kept me sane while living at home."

"Do you get along well with your parents?"

"Yes, but only because it's easier."

"Why?"

"Why is it easier?" He nodded. "Because I don't like causing problems or drama. When my mother gave me away, and then my parents adopted me, I was afraid that I would do something wrong and that they would give me away, too. I just tried to do what they wanted."

"And what about Logan?"

"What about him?"

"Do you worry that he might leave you too, if you don't get along with him for the most part?"

I shifted in my chair. "It's different with him. I was scared that he would leave me. And he did. He left me stranded, standing out in the middle of the road, in the freezing cold rain, and drove away. He was gone for a week, or something, but I didn't think I'd ever see him again. But then he came back. And then I left him." I let out a sigh. "When you came to my house that day and told me that I was invited to stay here and that it was Logan's idea, I…" I shook my head. "It was like he was coming back for me, you know? My parents were worried and concerned about me when I ran away, but they showed my picture on the news for a week and then that was it. Logan did what he could to find me. It's just different."

"Because he's your _real_ father?"

"That probably has something to do with it, yeah."

"So do you like it here with him?"

I smiled. "I think it might take a while for me to decide. Everything's changed now that I know who he is. We fight a lot. We did before too, though. It's just going to take some time for me to get used to living with him again. But I like it _here_."

"Good, I'm glad."

"What're you doin' in here, Summers?" We both turned our heads to see Logan standing in my doorway.

"I came to check on her, since _you_ left."

Logan pushed open my door all the way and held up a pizza box. "I went to go get something to eat. Is it alright with you if I get food for her? Or do I need the approval of Chuck's lapdog before feedin' my own daughter?"

Scott smiled at me. "I'll talk to you later, Jayden," he said, standing.

"All right. Thanks for checking on me."

"You're welcome. Bye."

"Bye." I watched him leave and Logan slammed the door behind him. "You know, gently shutting it works just as sufficiently and seems a lot less childish."

"What was he doin' in here?"

"He was making sure that I was okay. I think just about everyone heard me screaming my lungs out, and nearly the entire staff saw me shaking to near convulsions. He just wanted to see if I was feeling okay. No one but you has ever seen me have one of those."

"Well, I don't like him in here with you."

"I know, sorry," I said, playing with the drawstring on my hoodie. "I thought that…never mind."

He cocked and eyebrow at me. "You thought what?"

I looked up at him. "I thought that you left because of me."

"I did. I went to get you something to eat."

"No, I thought that I because of…_me_."

"Why would I leave 'cause of you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought you might have needed to get away for a while. Most people don't usually get surprised with kids all of a sudden. And I'm pretty sure that the ones who do don't have to deal with their psychotic visions throwing them into weird fits."

"What happens to you ain't your fault."

"It's not yours either."

He set the pizza down on the desk beside me, and then sat down in the chair where Scott had just been sitting. "This ain't gonna' be easy, and we're gonna' have to work at it, alright? But we're both here together, we both made this decision, and I'm too stubborn to back out now. I don't care what you decide to do, if you wanna' go home tomorrow, then you can, that's your decision. But I ain't gonna' leave you and you're gonna' get better. You're gonna' get this under control."

I nodded my head. "I'm not leaving either."

"Alright, then let's eat."

I smiled at him. "Okay."

I can't explain the feeling of being able to trust someone. Of being able to put all of your faith into one person. I've never needed or wanted anyone in my life; but with Logan, he changed everything around.

I wanted him.

I needed him.

And I trusted him to take care of me.

Because he always did.

* * *

I'm in a bar. It's dim and musky. It smells like cigarettes, stale beer, and sweat.

I see myself, doubled over and vomiting.

Logan's beating a man. First he pushes him up against a wall, hits him a few times, knees him in the groin, and then he has him down on the ground in front of me and I hear bones break.

His eyes are dark with rage. I can hear his anger in his grunts every time he hits the man harder.

The man begs for his life.

Logan asks for a reason to spare him.

He gives him an excuse.

Logan doesn't buy it.

He tells me to close my eyes. I do. But I still see it. I still hear it.

He stabs the man with his claws, in his lower back.

The man screams.

Logan continues. He impales him again, and again, and again.

I hear the man's screams die to nothing more than gurgles. I hear the sound of his limp body slapping against the blood soaked floor. I hear Logan growl and grunt as blood splatters his hands. Arms. Chest. His face.

And then he stopped.

"_Keep your eyes closed and hold on to me. I'm gonna' get us outta' here."_

I woke up with a small scream. I panted as I tried to catch my breath. My forehead was sweaty and I wiped it away.

It took about fifteen seconds for Logan to reach my bedroom. Thirty for Scott, Hank and Ororo.

"I'm fine," I told them as they all congregated in the entrance of my room. "It was…it was just a bad dream. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I should go get Xavier; this is the second time you've done this today," Scott said.

"No!" I said as he started to take a step away. "I told you; it was just a bad dream. I just had a nightmare. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry. You can all go back to bed now."

"Okay, if you need anything, just and get one of us, alright?"

I nodded. "I will, but I'm fine. I promise."

"Okay, goodnight Jayden."

"Goodnight Scott. Goodnight Hank, Ororo." They all mumbled out a 'night' before shuffling out of my room. All except for Logan. "I'm fine you know? You can go back to sleep."

Instead, he shut my door and walked over to my bed. "What happened?" he asked.

"I had a nightmare, I told you."

He sat down beside me. "About what?"

I looked over at him. "Do you remember that night at the bar in Canada when that man tried to…hurt me, and you…killed him?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it was about that," I said, looking away.

"You didn't see it, though. Your eyes were closed."

"I know, but that's what it was about."

"I'm sorry darlin', I didn't think about it givin' you nightmares."

"I know."

"You gonna' be able to get back to sleep?" I shrugged. "Do you want me to stay with you until you do?"

I looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah, would you?"

"Yeah." I lay back down and he lay down beside me. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. I instantly felt comforted, and let out a deep sigh. "How many times have you had that nightmare?"

"A few, I guess."

"How many's a few?"

"Ten or twelve maybe."

He swore. "I'm really sorry, kid."

"Don't worry about it; you were only protecting me," I said, closing my eyes. "But that reminds me, though. I was wondering if you could teach me some self-defense stuff. I really don't want to feel helpless anymore. I hated that feeling that way."

"Yeah. What do you want to try?"

"Just whatever you teach your students," I yawned. "I just don't want to need someone to take care of me; I want to be able to take care of myself."

"We can start tomorrow, if you want? Right after classes we can do your meditation and then go to the gym and try some stuff out, alright?" I nodded into his chest. "Go to sleep darlin', we'll talk about it in the mornin'."

"Night Logan," I mumbled, drifting to sleep. "Love you."

He kissed my forehead. "Night baby, love you, too."

* * *

I slept in the next day. It was ten o'clock before I got out of bed and forced myself into the shower. I figured there was no point; it was Monday, everyone was in class. By the time I had gotten dressed and was on my way to the kitchen, it was eleven thirty. When I got to the kitchen, Rogue was there, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper.

"Good mornin'," she said to me with a smile.

I smiled back at her. "Morning."

"There's some more coffee in the pot, if you want some."

"Oh, thanks, but I don't drink coffee."

"I shouldn't, I don't think it's too good for you, but some mornin's it's the only thing that can wake me up."

"My mother said that it would stunt my growth and stain my teeth," I said, realizing how superficial and pathetic it sounded. "Is it still hot?"

She smiled at me. "Should be." I took a cup from the self above the sink and poured coffee into it. Then I sat down at the island across from her. "I heard about last night."

"You heard _about_ it, or you heard _me_?"

"Both. Don't worry about it; after they get used to you wakin' up screamin' every now and then, they'll stop makin' such a big deal about it. Right now they just worry."

"Happen to you, too?"

"Every time I touch somebody, I get parts of them in my head. That means I get some of their memories, too. Logan's touched me quite a few times, savin' my life, so I have a lot of him up there. I'm sure you know what it's like to see inside his head, see what he's been though. That's enough to give anybody nightmares. And Logan's not exactly by himself up there, either."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't have anyone stuck in my head, but I see a lot of things that I don't want to. And I understand having other people's nightmares." I let out a sigh. "Oh well."

"Did Professor Xavier say that you were goin' to be able to learn how to control your powers?"

"Yeah, there's a possibility, but I'm going to have to work pretty hard at it. Hopefully I'll be able to," I said. "What about you?"

She closed her newspaper. "We're workin' on it, but I don't think so. There's not really an on and off switch for it, or anything. It's gotten better, though. I don't put everyone in a coma every time I touch them. The only reason Logan was out for so long after our mission last week was because he was tryin' to heal me. I didn't mean for him to be unconscious your first day here."

"Well, I don't think you meant to get set on fire, either."

She smiled sadly. "No, I didn't."

"Then we're square. Look, I would much rather have Logan laying unconscious on a medical table for a few hours than to have you there covered in third degree burns. I think a few hours are quite well worth it. I know Logan thinks so and that's all that matters, right?"

She smiled again, but happier this time. "We try to take care of each other."

"I know. I think that's one of the only reasons he let me stay with him for so long last year. Before he knew who I was. I think he felt bad about leaving you, so he took care of me because he wasn't here to take care of you. I have to admit I was quite jealous of you."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to need him, but I did. And I wanted him to care about me like he did you."

"He can't," she said. "You're his daughter; I'm just his friend."

"No, you're the reason why he wakes up in the morning. You're why he came back here, why he has a job now that doesn't involve him driving all over the place. You're the only reason he didn't go crazy after…after Jean passed away. I've seen him all those times you've almost died. I…felt what he was feeling. You're sad when a friend died. He was terrified every time he thought he lost you. Don't you feel that from him?"

She shook her head, causing the white streaks in her hair to sway in front of her face. She quickly tucked them away behind her ears. "The Professor taught me how to sorta' lock them away, so I don't go crazy. I try not to look at any of his thoughts of memories. I put them away as soon as I can. That's his personal stuff and it's none of my business, so I don't look at it."

"Well, I have, and that's how he feels about you. Up until a few months ago, I was just a kid he picked up in an ally after hurting myself."

"He picked me up in a bar."

I smiled. "He should probably try to curb his habits of picking up strange girls; he never knows what he's in for."

"You know he really cares about you, right? I mean, he might not tell you. I don't know what ya'll talk about when you're together, but I know that he really does love you and wants to make everything up to you."

"Yeah, I know."

"He may not seem like it, but he's really happy that you're here. And I think it's good for him, too. Ever since Jean died, he's been kind'a different. But you gave him something good to look forward to."

I nodded my head slowly. "Good, because he honestly means a lot to me, and I'm really happy to be here with him."

The day before, Scott had asked me if I liked it there with Logan, and I said I didn't know yet. After our argument from that morning and me thinking that he had left me, I wasn't sure. But that night, when he held me after my nightmare and stayed with me until I fell back to sleep, after hearing him telling me that he loved me, I knew that I didn't want to be anywhere but there with him.

* * *

"Here," Logan said, shoving a book and something black and leather into my arms.

"What is this stuff?" I asked. Classes had just let out for the day, and he had met me in my room so that we could walk to the meditation room together.

"It's the Edger Allen Poe book I told you that you could borrow. And a uniform."

"Uniform?" I asked with a quirked eyebrow. "What type of uniform?"

"Last night you said you wanted to learn self defense. We're gonna' work in the gym for a while first, but we'll move up to the Danger Room. You're gonna' need that in there."

I held up the uniform and looked at it. "Do I get to keep it?"

"Yeah," he said. "Just be good with it; those things ain't cheap."

I ran my fingers over it softly. The leather was worn in. An image flashed across my mind. "This used to be-"

"Jean's, yeah," he said, cutting me off.

I looked up at him. "I can't wear this."

"Slim said he didn't mind. It was his idea; better than breakin' in a new one."

I shook my head. "What about you? Are _you_ okay with it?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

I stood there for a few minutes in silence, just staring at the uniform. Words escaped me, and for a moment, I was speechless. I was overwhelmed with emotion, most of it my own, from being entrusted with something as precious as one of Jean Grey's uniforms, something that was personally hers. But some of it came from the actual uniform itself. Jean had done a lot in it, and I could feel the energy radiating off it. I could feel her, her memories, her emotions, and I was beyond flattered.

I looked away from it and once again looked to Logan. There was something piercing about his eyes, how he was staring down at me, that made chills run through me.

"I'll take good care of it. I promise."

"I know you will darlin'." He let out a sigh. "I know."

I walked over to my bed and placed the book he had given me on the nightstand beside it. Then I went over to my wardrobe, opened it, carefully folded up the uniform, and gently placed it on the top shelf.

"Alright, we can go now."

Meditating was much easier the second time I tried it. After the advice that Scott had given me the day before about just relaxing, not trying to force myself, and thinking more of it as 'me time' than anything, made me feel a lot more at ease. I noticed that when I just let go and didn't worry or stress over doing it right, I could relax and just breathe. Which was a good thing. Until my head started hurting.

There was a pain right between my eyes. It started out slowly at first, but it kept building until the point that it felt like someone had taken a soldering iron and stabbed me through the forehead. It was hot and painful, and I tried to breathe through the pain, but it didn't work.

"You okay?" I heard Logan ask. His voice seemed far away.

I gritted my teeth. I felt something, in my mind, but nothing would form. I felt something, but that was it. Nothing else. And the feelings slipped away as soon as I had felt them, taking with it the pain in my head. I opened my eyes with a small gasp.

"What'd you see?" Logan asked.

I held my head in my hands and caught my breath. "I didn't see anything," I said, shaking my head. "I just…I don't know, I felt something."

He stared at me. "What'd you feel?"

"I don't know. Something hard, I think it was concrete. Something else that felt like rough, rusty metal maybe. And water. Freezing cold water."

His eyebrow involuntarily raised in thought as he furrowed his brow. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so. It just gave me a headache. I'm fine now, though."

"You wanna' stop?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, sorry."

"No, don't worry about it. This is supposed to help you see and feel things so you can learn how to control 'em, but there ain't no point in pushin' it this early. We'll just take it slow. But at least we know it works. We'll do it again tomorrow and work on it, alright?" I nodded my head. "Good, you ready to go to the gym?"

"No rest for the weary, huh?"

"How're you feelin' right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't control your powers, you try concentratin' and all you get is a headache and the feelin' of freezin' cold water. How does _that_ make you feel?"

"Upset, angry, nervous, worried, confused. It's irritating to see kids here who can naturally control their powers on their own, without help, and I have to do all this that might not even help. I hate seeing and feeling things that don't belong to me. It's frustrating."

"Good. Take that frustration and work it out in the gym. Alright?"

I smiled. "Is that what you do when you get mad?"

"No, I express my angry feelings in poetry," he said sarcastically. I let out a loud laugh. "Yeah, if I'm not in a scrap at a bar or beatin' the crap outta' some idiot mutant tryin' to take over the freakin' world, I go in there and hit the punchin' bag or lift weights, or something."

"Well, have you ever _tried_ poetry? It might actually help; you never know." I couldn't help the grin on my face.

"What can I say kid; I just like to hit things."

I rolled my eyes jokingly. "Men. When I get married, I'm going to marry a non-violent, nature-loving, poetry writer."

"So you're gonna' marry Slim?"

"What would be wrong with that? He's a nice guy."

He looked at me sternly and cocked an eyebrow. "First of all, you ain't gonna' be datin' anyone, you're not old enough. And if you did, it wouldn't be Summers. I'd kill him."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I'd rip his arms off and shove 'em down his throat. Right before I slit it."

"No, not that…although that sounds incredibly painful…" I shook my head. "No, what I mean was; are you serious that I can't date while I'm up here?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, I'm eighteen, that's plenty old enough to date. I'm legally old enough to do everything but drink. And I have no desire to do that, so I don't care."

"Well I don't care if you're eighteen or not; you ain't datin' anyone while you're here."

"You can't do that. My parents didn't allow me to date until a few months ago; you can't take the only thing they do allow me to do and say it's off limits. You just can't do that. It's cruel and wrong."

"I don't care."

"Jerk," I muttered under my breath.

He raised an eyebrow. "I heard that."

"I don't care," I said, mimicking him.

"Did you just say that you were eighteen or eight? 'Cause I thought you were just talkin' about bein' an adult."

"Oh and you're just extremely grown up, aren't you? Wasn't it just yesterday that you were pouting and slamming doors? Even _I'm_ not that bad. And you're a lot older than me, like a _lot_, so you should know better."

He didn't say anything for a while, the he let out a loud sigh. "Do you hate me for leavin' you when you were born, and for not bein' there for you?"

I looked up from where I had been playing with the frayed ends of my jeans, thinking. "No, I don't."

"Why?"

"Is this about what I said yesterday? I didn't…I didn't really mean it. Do I think that things would have been different if you had stayed around? Yeah, completely. For both of us. But you didn't. I don't hate you for that."

"Do you blame me for all the crap that's happened?"

"No."

"Why?"

I let out a sigh. "Why do I do anything? Why did I always trust you even when I didn't know you? Why did I care about you when you were a complete stranger? Why was I jealous of how you felt about Marie and want you to feel the same way about me? Because there was just something in my head, and my heart, and my gut that told me I should. If you want to hate yourself or feel guilty about it, then that's fine. But I don't feel that way. I never have."

He cocked his head at me. "You were jealous of Marie?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to go over this again."

"What do you mean 'again'? We ain't ever talked about it before." I looked away from him. "Why were you jealous of Marie?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I lied.

"You're a terrible liar, kid." I rolled my eyes. "Jayden," he said. That got my attention. I looked back to him. "Why were you jealous of Marie?"

"I was jealous of how you felt about her, okay? I was jealous that you would do anything to take care of her, some girl that had no relation to you, a girl that stowed away in your bike trailer, but you refused to let me even tell you my name when we first met. And _I_ had been living through all of your crappy memories."

"You didn't even know who I was then."

"I don't care. I knew that there was something different about you; I felt a connection with you that first night. Something I had never felt before. But you couldn't wait to send me on my way. I don't know why I cared, I just did."

He looked at me for a moment. "You're still jealous of her, aren't you?" I looked away once again. He swore. "Why?"

"I don't know."

He swore again. "Yes you do."

"Do we have to talk about this right now? I really don't feel like it."

"Yeah, we do. So talk." I rolled my eyes once again. "Stop rollin' your eyes at me and tell me why you're jealous of her."

"No, don't tell me what to do. I'll roll my eyes if I want."

He let out a frustrated sigh and stood. "Fine. You don't wanna' talk about it, then don't. I ain't gonna' keep botherin' you about it."

He started for the door. "Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?" I asked, a tear sliding down my cheek. He stopped. He didn't turn around, but I knew he was waiting for me to continue. "I don't know what's going on anymore. Seven months ago, everything was perfect. I was living with my parents, I knew what was going to happen from day to day, I had my whole future planned out. But then I saw you. I threw everything away for you. My parents trust, my future, _everything_. And I wanted to feel that you _would_ do the same thing. I wanted to feel that you cared about _me_, not because I reminded you of someone. I'm not even sure who I am now. I'm not who my parents wanted me to be. I'm not who you want me to be. I don't fit in. I don't know who these people are. I don't even know you, really. And I'm scared because I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"You're supposed to do what feels right to you, what you feel in your gut. I can't tell you who to be, 'cause that's something you gotta' figure out on your own. But there wasn't anything wrong with the kid I found up in Canada. She was scared, but she knew what she felt. Was that you, or were you just tryin' to be who you thought I wanted you to be?"

I wiped the tears away from my hot cheeks. "That was me, but…"

He looked at me from over his shoulder before turning around. He walked back to where I was sitting and crouched down in front of me. "But what?"

"That was before everything. Before either of us knew who the other was. That was when I still thought I could walk away from you without a hitch."

"I told you yesterday that this ain't gonna' be easy. Neither of us knows what we're doin', kid, and I think that's pretty freakin' obvious. But like I said before; you're _mine_, there ain't nothing that can change that, and all I want is for you to stop tryin' to be who you think everyone _wants_ you to be, and just do what _you_ think is right. Seven months ago everything might'a been planned out for you, but was it really _perfect_? Right now you gotta' figure it out and make new planes." He looked at me, staring into my eyes. It was one of the looks where he wasn't just looking _at_ me, he was looking _through_ me. "I'm _here_. I got a job and I did it for you. Nobody else, not even Marie. _You_. Was givin' all that up worth it to you? This is hard for both of us, we just gotta' make sure it's worth it."

"Was it worth it to you?" I asked my voice small and quiet.

"Yeah darlin', it was."

I nodded my head and sniffled. "Even before you asked me to come here, I thought it was worth it. I told you that when I went back home and wrote you that letter. Those few weeks that I spent with you, even with all the stuff that happened, they were the best weeks of my life. Everything that I had tried to keep from my parents, my family, everything that I felt and thought and believed…I didn't have to hide it from you, because you felt the same way. I felt safe with you and I trusted you. Even when you didn't want me to." I let out a sigh. "Everything was worth it, but everything's so different, I don't know what to do."

He wiped the tears from my cheeks. "Do you wanna' go home? Would it be easier for you to just go back there? You can write me, you can call me; you can come out here and visit if you want. But you gotta' do this for you, you gotta' do what's gonna make you happy. I overheard you and Summers talkin' yesterday. I heard you tellin' him that you didn't know if you wanted to stay here with me or not. So what do you want?"

I looked at him, tears brimming my eyes. "I said that after our argument yesterday morning and you left after my vision. I thought that you were trying to get away from me. But last night…when I had my nightmare and you stayed with me until I fell asleep…" I shook my head. "My parents never did that for me, they thought it was enabling my fears or something stupid. But when you did, I felt so safe and so right. And then I heard you tell me that you loved me." I closed my eyes, but tears escaped my lids and streaked down my face. "That's what I wanted. And I don't want to be anywhere but here. It's just that things are still confusing to me."

I felt him sit down beside me and pull me to him. I fell into his arms and he stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. "I know darlin, but things are always gonna' be confusin', don't matter what it's about, that's just how things are."

I continued to cry in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably as he held me. He would speak every now and then, barely more than a whisper in my ear, telling me that it was okay or to let it all out. But mostly he just held me, because that's what I needed. I don't know how he did it, but he always knew exactly what I needed.


	4. Fighter

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, Fox, or the title of the song that I named the story after. But they haven't sued me yet, so maybe they won't. If they did, they wouldn't get much. Maybe just a laptop, or something. I'm broke. I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

"You hit like a girl," Logan said.

"I _am_ a girl, you insensitive jerk."

We were in the gym and he was trying to go slow and teach my something simple; how to punch. Apparently I wasn't doing too well.

"Hit it harder," he said, instructing me to hit the punching bag.

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

I stopped and stared at him. "I'll hit as hard as I want."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, for someone who doesn't argue with her parents, you sure got a lot of attitude. If you're not gonna' listen and do what I tell you, then what's the point of me bein' here?"

"Moral support," I said with a smile.

He shook his head, but let a small smile creep across his lips. "Your problem is you ain't getting' a reaction outta' the bag. You need a person to hit and move."

I pursed my lips in mock-thought. "Or quite possibly I'm just a wimp."

"That too," he said, apparently having just had a thought.

"Dude, you're not supposed to agree with me about stuff like that."

He walked a few feet away to a storage box and opened it. When he came back, he was holding a pair of white gloves. "Put these on," he ordered.

"What for?"

"To protect your hands when you hit me."

I looked at him and shot up an eyebrow. "I don't think so, furry-face. I'm not exactly the brightest bulb in the box, but I'm not _that_ dim. I just really don't think it's a good idea for me to hit someone who has _metal_ underneath their skin. Just personally, though."

"That's why you got the gloves."

"These gloves barely have any padding in them; they're not going to help much."

"They don't got a lot of paddin' in them so you can feel what you're doin'. Just put 'em on."

"Hitting you is _not_ a good idea, I'm telling you."

"I'm the teacher, ain't I?"

"Not the English teacher, hopefully."

"Put the gloves on."

I let out a sigh, but did as he said. "You're bigger than me; don't you think you have more of an advantage over me?"

He rested his hands on his waist. "You're five foot eight, a hundred and thirty five pounds, just about _everyone_ is gonna' be bigger than you. That's what you're gonna have to learn to fight."

"How do you know how much I weight?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and turning my gaze up towards him.

"I've held you a few times, kid. It ain't that hard to figure out."

"So you purely _guessed_ how much I weigh?"

"Yeah." He blinked at me. "Are you done talkin'?"

I let out a deep, dramatic sigh. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Good. Now hit me."

"Where?"

"I'm not gonna' tell you, 'cause I wanna' see what you do." I studied him. I was going to get one free shot to hit him wherever I wanted without getting into trouble, and I wanted to make it good. "Some time today, darlin'."

"I'm thinking." He let out an exasperated breath. "Fine," I said, then swung my fist fast and hard into his gut. He didn't move. I felt like crying. I swore loudly. "That hurt! I told you this was a bad idea!"

He shook his head. "That wasn't my fault; it was yours."

"And how's that?"

"You shouldn't have hit me in the stomach. You should've gone for a weak spot."

I shook out my hand, trying to stop it from hurting. "Which is where on you? As I said; you have _metal_ underneath your skin. Hard, painful, indestructible metal."

"Weak spots are the temples, eyes, throat, groin, knees, and the top of the feet. If you're gonna' hit with your fist, then bring your aim out straight and hit with your knuckles first. They're the hardest part on your hand and they'll hurt the most. And bring your shoulder and hip into the punch, too. It's kind'a like swingin' a bat, but you're goin' straight, not to your side. The elbow is the strongest part of your body, so if you use it, it's gonna' hurt. If you bring your elbow back, up high, and bright it across your other shoulder, then swing it with your body, it's good against the temple or the throat. Or you can drive your elbow back, if someone's behind you. Remember to push your arm back with your other hand. Now, if you're gonna' kick someone in the groin, you can pull your knee up into it, but only if you're close enough. If your further away from 'em, pull your knee up in front of you, then let your foot snap out, and kick. Keep your toes pointed, so that when you make contact, you're hittin' with the top of your foot."

"I thought you said that the top of your foot was a weak spot? If I hit them with that part of my foot, won't it hurt me too?"

"No, 'cause you're usin' it differently. You're usin' it to kick and you're controlin' it. But if you step on it, it's gonna' hurt," he said. "If you're gonna' get physical with someone, you gotta' be in it all the way, alright darlin'? If you don't think you can do it, then they won't either. You gotta' turn your adrenaline rush of fear into anger, and make yourself stronger. You're gonna' strike and hit, not wrestle, 'cause you ain't gonna' win that kind'a fight. Not now, anyway. Alright?"

"Yeah. How am I supposed to stand, though? My parents always told me to plant my feet shoulder width apart, and try to pry their hands from me. If that doesn't work, they told me to kick them in the knees."

"That ain't bad, but you need more than that. You got the feet thing right. But stand with your arms up and keep your knees bent a little."

"So that I look like a moron?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Sorry, go on."

"If someone grabs your wrist, you ain't gonna' be able to pry 'em off. You can get out by doin' a quick twist _against_ the thumb, it's the weakest part of their hold on you. Now, if you're gonna' kick 'em in the knee, you can't do the same thing as you would to the groin; that _will_ hurt you. You're gonna' bring your knee up, and then you're gonna' drive your foot out, so that you're hittin' the knee with your _heel_. That's the strongest part of your foot, and if you hit them from the side or the front, it'll hurt. But if you do it from behind, and really kick 'em, they'll fold like a lawn chair. If you're kickin' 'em from the side or the front, though, after you kick 'em, scrape your heel down from their knee, onto the top of their foot and stomp. And I'm talkin' killin' a cockroach kind'a stomp, none of that pansy, girl stuff, alright? And I know how much you hate cockroaches." He smirked at me.

"Teasing me about my fear of bugs isn't part of the lesson, is it?"

"No, but tomorrow I'm gonna' bring in some clowns for you to practice on," he said, continuing to smirk.

I had a fear of clowns and I had let it slip to him once. Not that it mattered, because at the time I was standing in a chair because a cockroach had nearly run over my foot in the motel room we had been sharing.

I rolled my eyes. "Are you done making fun of me?"

"Yeah," he said. "Do the best you can to stay off the ground, 'cause it's harder for you to fight that way. But if you do end up on the ground somehow, and they're on top of you, use them bein' close to you to your advantage. Poke 'em in the eyes, knee 'em in the groin, kick their knees, put an elbow in their throat. If there's something hard on the ground around you, use it. Chances are, a rock to the temple's gonna' hurt worse than your elbow."

"Won't that kill them, though?"

One of his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Does it matter?"

I let out a sigh and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Then no, it doesn't," he said, and then continued, "If you go down, and they don't go down with you, bringin' your knee up will help keep someone off you. You just need to get a few good strikes in there and hurt 'em enough to get away. For right now. We'll talk about completely takin' care of yourself later, alright?"  
I nodded. "Alright."

"Good," he said, looking past me. I looked over my shoulder. Scott was standing in the entrance of the gym. He was wearing a uniform. Logan let out a sigh. "Where to Summers?"

"Glasgow. There was a break in at Dr. McTaggart's lab and the Professor wants us to check it out. A few of her medical samples were taken. Including the one she was working on for Rogue to help her mutation. No one was hurt, though."

"Not yet anyway."

"We need to go as soon as possible, she hasn't filed a criminal report yet and she isn't going to until you can see if you can find anything."

Logan nodded, then looked back to me. "I gotta' go, alright?"

"Yeah."

He began to walk past me, moving towards the door. "Love you," I whispered.

"Right back at'cha, kid." I turned and watched him. He was nearly to the door when he stopped. He turned around and came back tom. He kissed me on top of my head. "You know I'm comin' back, right?" I nodded. "It won't take long, I'll be back soon."

"And I'll still be here when you get back." He lifted my chin and winked at me. I smiled. "Just be careful, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll be back," he said again.

Finally he turned and left the gym. I was sad to watch him leave, but he had proven to me more than once that he would come back for me. He always had.

* * *

"Ah, Jayden, how may I help you?" Hank asked as I walked into the lab. He was sitting behind a desk, reading through a stack of papers.

"I thought you might need some help or…something."

He took his reading glasses from his face and placed them gently in the pocket of his white lab coat. "I take it that Logan went with the team to Scotland?" I nodded. He smiled. "Have a seat and I'll see what I can find for you to do."

"If I'm bothering you, I can leave. I just thought that, you know, you might need someone to…organize folders, or something."

"You're not bothering me in the least. I actually wouldn't mind the company. And there's no need for you to organize folders, either. But please, have a seat." I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. It had wheels and I began rolling around in it. He smiled at me. "Appareo decet nihil munditia?"

I stopped and stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

His smile broadened, showing his brilliantly white teeth, a beautiful contrast to his blue skin and fur. "It's Latin for, Is it not nifty? I realize that it's easier to say in English, but I just enjoy the way it sounds," he said. "That and, Volo anaticulam cumminosam meam. But that means, I want my rubber duck, and doesn't quite fit into the conversation."

I smiled back at him. "I'm sure if I knew how to speak Latin, I would enjoy saying it that way better, too. It makes it sound very important."

"My sentiment exactly," he said. "Now tell me, do you know how to create a reaction from carbon dioxide gas to cause a nucleation?"

I blinked. "Uh…I don't think so."

He shook his head and tutted. "We really must change that. I'm afraid I'll have to teach you. Here," he said, handing me a pen and a pad of paper. "Write down what I tell you _exactly_."

"Okay," I said, waiting intently for him to begin. I didn't want to mess up.

"Two litter diet Coca-Cola, a package of Mentos, and a box of Twinkies…actually, better make that two boxes, just to be safe."

"Uh, sir-"

"Hank," he corrected.

"Hank, um…how do Coke, Mentos and Twinkies have anything to do with creating a reaction from carbon dioxide?"

"That's exactly what you get when you add Mentos to diet soda." He smiled.

"And the Twinkies do…what?"

"Nothing, those are for me." I laughed. "Have you ever done that before?"

"What, add Mentos with a diet Coke?" He nodded. "No, I've never tried that. My parents weren't so keen on me drinking soda of any kind, diet or not."

"Well you don't drink it, that would be painful. Foam would pour of your mouth and nose, and I don't think anyone would really enjoy that. No, you have to drop a whole package of Mentos into the diet soda, and it causes a reaction, forcing the C02 to the top, which then launches soda from the bottle. But the diet part is imperative because it has artificial sweeteners in it, as appose to real sugar, which would slow the reaction process down. I'm teaching about it in class this week, on Friday we'll be having a demonstration. You're more than welcome to come watch."

I smiled. "That sounds like a lot of fun; I would love to see that."

"Excellent. I'll be looking forward to having you there."

"Sir." He gave me a stern look. "Hank," I said, and he nodded approvingly. "I hope this doesn't insult you, I don't mean it rudely, but you remind me of this stuffed teddy bear that I used to sleep with when I was younger. Actually, I couldn't go anywhere with it. My parents bought him for me right after they adopted me. They wanted me to get something a little more girlish, but I just thought he was the coolest thing I had ever seen. I _was_ only four at the time, though."

"Now why would I be insulted by that? He sounds like a very handsome bear."

I smiled. "Not anymore, I'm afraid. His fur is sort of matted, one of his arms is falling off and he lost his left eye during a fight over whether I was too old to sleep with a stuffed animal or not. Apparently I was, so they packed him up…"

"My condolences to him and his lost eye. I had the same problem as well. Of course I was much older, and the headmaster of the college where I was teaching found it quite odd that I carried a stuffed animal with me to classes. But it's the principle of the matter, and so I sympathize with you," he said with a smile.

I laughed and shook my head. "What was yours called?"

"Hank the second. I thought Hank Jr. might be confused with that of the country singer, and I didn't want that," he continued to joke. "Yours?"

"Mr. Snugga Bear. When I was little, I couldn't say 'snuggle', I said 'snugga', and since we snuggled, that's what I named him."

"Of course, it was only appropriate."

"Exactly."

"Did your parents ever give him back to you?"

"No, but I snuck him out of hiding when I was packing to move here. So he's in my wardrobe, safe and sound."

"Did you find a replacement for him as a child?"

"No, I wasn't allowed to."

"Well it didn't have to be another animal. For most children, when they're attached to things such as teddy bears, blankets, or even sucking their thumb, it's for security. They need something familiar and constant to make them feel safe. It's completely understandable and quite common actually, for someone, such as yourself, who had an upset during their childhood to have something that they can control. Like having one thing to sleep with every night. But it can be something else as well."

I thought for a moment. "Would humming a certain song and rocking myself to sleep count? Or is that something else completely?"

"No, that's exactly what that is. Did you start humming after your bear was taken away?"

"No, I did it before it."

"Then it's just a way for you to make yourself feel safe and in control, it just wasn't a replacement for anything. Do you still do this?"

"Yeah."

"May I ask what song?"

"It's 'I'll Be Seeing You'. Jimmy Durante did a version of it."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that version, it's actually my favorite. Very good taste."

"It was playing when I was born. My mother, my _real_ mother, used to sing it to me when I was little to get me to go to sleep."

"And so you continued to hum it after she had placed you up for adoption to keep a part of her with you?"

"Yeah, sort of," I said unenthusiastically.

"You don't seem too happy about that thought."

"I'm not. I don't much care for my real mother anymore. Now I hum it for Logan."

His blue brow furrowed in thought. "How so?"

I shrugged. "He was there when I was born, so it's just as much for him as her. And I didn't even know the name of it until he told me. He also bought me the Jimmy Durante CD with that song on it for Christmas."

"He cares about you very much, you know? Whether he shows it properly or not isn't my place to say, but I do know that he's very happy for you to be here."

I smiled. "You're the second person today that's said that," I said. "I know he cares about me. I can feel it."

"Well, I just wanted to say that in his defense. I wasn't sure if you believed it or not after how he acted yesterday during your conversation over the phone with your father."

"Yeah, we worked that out."

"Good."

"I think right now, our problem is that I'm used to my parents, they raised me, and I am, in a sense, a daddy's girl. That's what they think, anyway. Truth is, if Logan had been the one to raise me, I wouldn't have to pretend. We argue and fight, but we make up, and there's part of me that would follow him to the end of the world and back. Just don't tell him I said that, though."

He laughed. "I won't."

"And then there's Marie…I like her, she seems really sweet, she's been out of her way nice to me, which I really appreciate. But I know how close she and Logan are. I know that before I ever existed in his memory, she was like a daughter to him. She's his best friend. She knows him almost better than anyone else. I don't know how to compete with that, and I don't want to. I understand that our relationship is completely different and unique, I just don't know if we're both going to be able to keep it going without knowing what to do. With her…I don't know, he can just tell her anything."

"When you love someone, there's always room for change. Logan loves you, I can see that when he looks at you, and in time the two of you will work out your own rules to your relationship. But like everything else, it's going to take time."

* * *

I woke in a cold sweat early in the morning, two days later. My body was shivering, but my forehead was damp. I looked at my alarm clock, it read half past three. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw Logan sitting in the chair by my desk.

"When did you get back?" I mumbled, still half asleep.

"Just a few hours ago," he said. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just don't feel too good. What are you doing in here?"

"Watchin' you sleep."

"Sounds like fun." I pulled the blankets closer to me. "How did the mission go?"

He let out a deep breath. "The ones that broke in knew what they were doin', but they were just a little too messy. We caught up with a few of 'em though, and I took care of 'em."

"Why do I feel like you 'took care' of them in a way that Scott didn't agree with?"

"'Cause I did."

"Killing people isn't always the answer, you know?"

"It's what I'm best at, darlin'. Just playin' to my strengths."

"But I thought he said that no one was hurt? Why did you kill them?"

"I didn't."

I sat up and looked at him. "But you just said-"

"No, you did. I said that killin' is what I do best. Never said I killed anyone."

"So you just, what? Beat them senseless?"

"Dang Skippy."

"I don't even know what that means."

"It means yeah, I did."

"Why could you have just said that? I'm too sleepy to try to work out your weird phrases."

"Go back to sleep then."

"I want to know why you beat them up, though."

"'Cause they took some important stuff from that lab."

"The stuff they were working on for Rogue?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah."

"Did anyone tell her it was taken?"

"No," he said. "She didn't even know they were makin' it."

"Why not?"

He let out a sigh and adjusted himself in the chair. "Marie's worked hard tryin' to get her powers under control and she's done good. There ain't no point in getting' her hopes up over something that might not even work."

"So is it a cure?"

"No, it's just supposed to slow it down, so she can control it. Won't have to worry about her skin anymore."

I yawned. "I'd be much more responsive to this conversation in the morning."

I heard him let out a chuckle. "Go back to sleep, we'll talk later."

I lay back down and pulled the covers up around me. "Did you find any of the samples that they took?"

"A few, the doctor's workin' on makin' the other ones again, though."

"Rogue's?"

"Gone."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I just thought that maybe if you took enough of it, it could work like a cure."

"Why were you thinkin' that?"

I was nearly asleep again, I barely heard his question. "I just thought it might be nice not to have to see stuff all the time. Just stay in my own mind for one night, or something."

"Go back to sleep, baby. No one's gonna' bother you tonight; I'm gonna' stay right here."

He had been gone for two days, but he was back. Back for me. I could finally get some sleep.


	5. On My Own

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, Fox, or the title of the song that this story is named after. But I do own all of the mistakes I may have (and undoubtedly) made. It's half past three in the morning and my hands are killing me from spending the past two hours typing this up. So I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

"Good morning, Jayden," Hank said cheerfully as I entered the kitchen. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing well, you?"

"I'm doing fantastically, thank you. Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

"Sure."

"You don't have anything against French toast, do you?"

"No personal vendetta, no," I joked with a smile.

"Good, then that's what we'll have."

He went to work making French toast in a way I had never seen anyone make it. He didn't just dip bread in egg and…I don't know what you use to make French toast, but he didn't do it anyway that I had ever seen it made. No, he made some type of pastry, brushed it with a mixture of eggs, milk and cinnamon, then he baked them for a while. He took them back out, rolled them up with cream cheese, brushed them with his mixture again, before rolling them in sugar and cinnamon. Then he put them back in the oven. Having absolutely no culinary skills myself, I was amazed. He seemed to enjoy himself very much as he cooked. He sang and hummed and I couldn't help from smiling at him. When he was finally done and had set the timer on the oven, he came over to where I was sitting and extended his hand to me.

"May I have this dance, my dear lady?"

I blinked at him. "There's no music," I stated lamely.

"You don't hear it? I believe that they're playing out song."

I smiled up at him. "And what song would that be?"

"You don't remember our song?" He tutted. "It's 'As Time Goes By', Jimmy Durante of course."

"Of course. Old Jimmy, how could I forget?" I said with a laugh. I took his hand and stood. "Yes my dear sir, you may have this dance."

He led me to the middle of the kitchen and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He moved them, placing my left hand on his shoulder and took my right in his, pulling them in towards his chest. "I'm old fashioned," he said with another one of his brilliant smiles.

"And I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Then let me teach you." He softly began to sing, slowly swaying to the beat he heard in his head. I followed him as he moved his feet, proving he was far more graceful than his appearance made him seem. I stepped on one of his big, bare, furry blue feet and cringed.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"Don't apologize, you're doing wonderfully."

I smiled as a soft blush pinched my cheeks. "Thank you."

"Just go with the rhythm."

"I have no rhythm."

"You have more than you allow yourself to believe. Do you feel the beat of your heart?" I nodded. "Step to that," he said, then went back to singing. After a few moments, I got the hang of it and rested my head on his large shoulder. Then I began to sing along with him. "You know this song?"

I nodded. "It's on the album Logan bought me for Christmas. It was the first time I had ever heard it and thought it was beautiful."

"It's one of my favorites."

I hadn't known Hank for very long, just a little over a week, but I was already completely smitten with him. He was one of the nicest, smartest, funniest, most polite people I had ever met. He also had a way of making me feel comfortable and at ease around him. A real ease, too, not just me pretending to be myself around him, like I had always done with my family and friend at home. There was something about him that was just so easy to be around. Maybe it was because he looked so different, maybe he had to work harder for people to not be scared of him than others and that was why he always seemed so happy. There had been few times in my life when I had ever been truly _happy_, but when I was around him, he made it seem simple.

I didn't get attached to people. I loved my parents and I knew that they loved me, but I never let them get close. I never let anyone get close. Until Logan. He came in and shattered everything. I was left trying to pull the picture together, only to find that things had changed and some pieces of my life no longer fit. He completely changed it all, and I spent a lot of my time before being invited to the school wondering if I liked it. I looked at my life, at myself, and I didn't recognize what I saw. But one day, just before Christmas, I got a letter from Logan and I knew who I was. I was _his_. And it was hard to just accept a life changing idea all in the three or four months since I had found out. But I was working on it and part of the change included getting used to the idea that I could get attached to some people. Including Hank. I still didn't entirely enjoy the idea of getting close to people, but if I was going to, Henry McCoy wasn't a bad person to do so with.

"What're you doin'?" I heard a gruff voice ask from behind me.

"Good morning Logan. We're dancing," Hank answered, spinning me so that I could see Logan leaning against the doorway.

"To what?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in confusion. He had his arms stiffly folded across his chest.

"Our song," Hank answered simply, dipping me, and then bringing me back up. I laughed.

Logan continued to look confused, adding annoyance in with the look on his face, while Hank and I simply laughed and smiled. "You both know there ain't any music playin', right?"

"Well of course not," Hank said. "The song ended. That's why we've stopped dancing."

"I don't know if I want you hangin' around with him, darlin'. I think he's been spendin' too much time with his science kit and unstable chemicals. You're supposed to mix it, not sniff it, McCoy."

"Those who were seen dancing were thought mad by those who could not hear the music," Hank replied. Logan and I both gave him a look. "Have you never heard that quote?"

Logan made a charade of drinking something, mocking Hank. I laughed and shook my head. He gave me a small smirk and winked at me. "So what're the two of you doin' aside from dancin' to music that ain't there?" he asked, walking over to the self and pulling out a cup, then poured coffee into it.

"Hank's cooking breakfast and I'm watching," I said, going back to my stool.

"That's probably the safest idea."

I laughed. "Can you pour me a cup?" He took another cup and poured coffee into it before setting it in front of me. "Thank you."

"Kid, can we talk for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Let's go outside."

"Uh, okay. I'll be right back, sir," I said as I stood.

"Hank," he corrected.

I made a wincing face. "Sorry, _Hank_."

I followed Logan from the kitchen, out the side door and onto a small doorstep. He sat down on the top step and patted the spot beside him, motioning for me to sit down. It was lightly snowing out, and even thought the steps were dry from their protection from the awning above it, they were still cold.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked after I was seated beside him.

"Last night."

I hugged my knees close to me and looked at him confused. "What about last night?"

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "You were talkin' about a cure, about wantin' to take one."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Look, that's your decision if they ever come up with anything like that, you're an adult, but I don't want you feelin' like you gotta' get rid of your powers just to get some peace in your head. Chuck said you can get it under control, you just gotta' give it time and work at it."

"No, what the Professor said was that I could learn to filter out certain visions, not control them completely." My feet were starting to get cold in my flip-flops.

"So you just wanna' give it up?"

"I was half asleep when I said it."

"You didn't answer me."

I let out a sigh. "Dude, I don't know, okay? I just…I'm tired, you know? I mean, it's every night now."

"We're workin' it out darlin', that's what the meditation's for."

"I don't think it's working. We've had two sessions together, I've cried both times, and I tried the two days you were gone. I ended up crying and getting more headaches. That's it."

"Then we'll work harder."

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Well I do." He pulled me to him and wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the side of my head. "With Chuck and Hank's help, we'll figure it out, alright?"

"Alright," I mumbled into his shoulder.

I was cold, but I didn't want to move. I fell into his arms and inhaled him. He smelled of cologne, and cigars, and it was perfect. When I was younger, my father would hold me as we watched TV together, and I could feel that he loved me. But there was a difference with Logan. A big one. He loved me too, yeah, but his touch radiated protection. His kiss symbolized acceptance. Holding me was more than just a small gesture saying that he loved me. It was his silence way of promising that he would always take care of me. That we would figure ourselves out, and eventually we wouldn't worry about who we were, because we would understand.

"We better go back in. It's cold out here and I hear Hank gettin' that stuff outta' the oven."

"Okay." He stood up and gave me his hand, helping me to stand. He walked to the door. "Logan," I said, stopping him before he went back in.

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"This, talking to me, all of it. Just…thank you. For everything."

"Yeah, no problem, darlin'." I gave him a small smile and nodded my head. "Let's go back in; your feet are startin' to turn blue."

"Wow, that smells go good," I said, following Logan into the kitchen.

"It tastes even better. I assure you," Hank said. "Logan, would you care to join us?"

"No, I gotta' go get my class ready."

"Are you sure?" I looked up at him and he shook his head.

"Don't give me that look, kid."

"What look?"

"Where your eyes get all big and you bat your lashes."

"I wasn't aware that I was doing that."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Really?" I nodded. "Well, you are."

I pouted my lips slightly. "So you can't even stay for just a little bit? They do say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You don't want to skip out on something that's important, do you?"

He tilted my chin up with his hand and gave me a wink. "I gotta' go, darlin'. I've been gone, so now I gotta' go get my classes set back up. I'll see you at lunch, alright?"

I let out a sigh. "Yeah, alright."

I hated it when he went to classes. I had been spoiled my first few days there when I had gotten to spend all day with him. But once he started teaching, I had to find other things to do to occupy my time.

"Do you want ice cream on yours?" Hank asked, once Logan had left.

"For breakfast?" I asked, sitting back down on my stool.

"It tastes quite good on top of the French toast when it's hot."

"My parents-" I started, but caught myself. I shook my head. "Yes, I would love ice cream on mine, sir." He smiled at me and let my 'sir' slide. For right then, anyway.

I was finding that even if I hadn't let my parents get too close to me and me to them, their rules were still hard for me to let go of. I was so used to please them all the time; I did what I was told without question. And I had worked harder to follow their rules after I had run away, because I wanted their trust back.

I was also learning that I could not only have my own opinion, I could express it as well. If Logan had done so without the Professor asking him to leave, then I could as well. But the hard part was allowing myself to make my own decisions for me. I had no one to blame, to point the finger at if I screwed up. When I had spent time with Logan before, I was okay with him seeing me. I had seen far too much of what he'd done to believe that he would actually judge me on my thoughts. Not to mention we agreed on nearly everything. But there, at the institute, I wondered if they would accept me. In all honesty, I was scared.

* * *

Time flew away from me faster than I imagined possible. January went quickly, and then the whole month of February followed. Right behind it came March, April, and before I knew it, it was May. _May_. Over three and a half months I had been there, and I was meant to be going home in only a few weeks.

I'm happy to inform you that after a lot of hard and intense work, I was able to gain some control over my visions. I could understand the difference between what _had_ happened and what was _going_ to happen…for the most part. One of the problems was that I could feel them in my head, like my mind was an answering machine for visions, or something. And that could hurt sometimes.

My schedule had changed quite a bit in the few months I had been there, too. I no longer slept in and wandered around the school, looking for something until classes let out. No. I got up at six every morning, did mediation with Logan, helped cook and ate breakfast with Hank, dressed for the day, then helped Hank again with his classes. He had taught me a lot to help prepare me for collage.

Once classes were out, I changed again, for more meditation and then self defense. Although, after only a few weeks, it stopped being about defending myself. Yes, that's what it was for, but after learning how to do a few moves right, I found out that I was good at it. And not only was I good at it, I actually_ liked_ it. Which seems perfectly sensible, now that I think about it. Logan was good at it, he loved it, why wouldn't I? He had taught me a mix of martial arts, half of which he couldn't remember the name of their style. Which was fine by me; I didn't pay so much attention to the name as I did the actual movement.

After two months of working out for an hour and a half every day, I finally got to see the inside of the Danger Room. During my first session, I died nine times. Yes, _nine_ times. He kept resetting it, making me go through it until I got it right. The same man who barely knows how to use a cell phone somehow managed to learn how to use the Danger Room control system. That was one piece of information he didn't let go to waste. When I was done, I went back to my room and threw up. I didn't think I could ever get used to it. I had become accustomed to the pain and aches I felt from working out. But that was small potatoes compared to the Danger Room. I had a mission, a time limit. There were things I had to jump over. I had to be smart and fast. I had 'people' chasing after me, and if I got caught, I was out. Even thought it was only a simulated fight, I took it seriously. And so did Logan. That's why we were both in the gym on a Friday night training, not watching 'Gone with the Wind' with the rest of the staff. That and we both would have rather gnawed off our own arms before having to sit through that torture. It just so happened that training was much more pleasant.

"Can you see anything?" Logan asked for the third time.

"No, I told you; all I can see is black. That's it."

"Good."

We were in the gym, on some of the practice mats and I was blindfolded. Why, you may ask. Yeah, so did I.

"I don't understand the whole point of this. Why do I have to be blindfolded? I thought you said my reflexes were great; what's the point of training in the dark?"

"Your reflexes _are_ great, but you ain't exactly stealthy. You're too loud."

"What do you mean I'm too loud; I barely make a sound."

"Yeah you do."

I let out a frustrated breath. Curling up with Hank on the cough and watching Scarlett O'Hara whine and moan for four hours was starting to look better. At least he would have Twinkies.

"Okay, how is _this_ going to help, though?"

"You gotta' start listenin' to what's goin' on around you, then you might start hearin' yourself."

"Okay, so what's going on around me? You're talking, that's it."

"Shut up and listen."

I fought the urge to tell him not to tell me to shut up, but decided it would probably be better if I just kept my mouth shut and listened to him for once. But after what felt like an hour, I felt like the exercise wasn't working.

"I don't hear anything," I finally said.

"_Nothing_?" he said, his voice sounding as flat and bored as I felt. I was obviously missing something he wasn't.

"No, nothing."

"What do you feel?"

I paused. "Yeah, I don't feel anything either. Sorry."

"So as far as you know, you could be anywhere."

"I'm in the gym," I deadpanned.

"If you were taken away, you were blindfolded and the only way to tell where you were was by sound, or smell, or touch, you wouldn't even be able to tell anyone where you were."

"Who would kidnap _me_?"

"That's not the _point_. The point is, if you _were_ ever taken, you'd be pretty screwed, wouldn't you?" I let out another frustrated sigh, but didn't dare argue with him, he was right. I just couldn't feel was he was feeling. So I tried again. "What do you hear?" he asked, as if he knew exactly what I was doing.

I listened intently, trying to hear something, anything. Then I did. "I hear you walking. Slowly, though. You're moving really slow and carefully on the mats."

"Can you feel it?"

I shook my head. "Barely."

"What side am I movin' to?"

"Uh…my left."

"Are you sure?"

I concentrated heard. His voice didn't give him away. It seemed like it was staying in the same place. But I could feel him, and with my eyes closed, I could see an outline of him moving. A dark, fuzzy outline. "Yeah, you're moving to the left…no, now you're moving back."

I could feel him smirk at me. "I thought you couldn't hear or feel anything?"

"I couldn't. You never make a sound."

"No, I do, it's just quiet and only someone with my hearin' could hear me."

"Yeah, but I just heard you."

"I know."

I shook my head blindly. "I don't understand."

"I was talkin' to Chuck and Hank after your meetin' last week; they said your mutation is…growin'."

I took the blindfold off. "What do you mean it's _growing_? And why was I not told earlier?"

"Hank's still tryin' to get it all worked out, but it looks like your reflexes ain't good just 'cause you used to do gym when you were younger."

"Well, what is it from then?"

"Me?"

"I knew you could inherit the mutant gene, I didn't know you could inherit actual mutations, though."

"Yeah, he did some sort of test and found out that's what it is. He said you're just developin' them, though. So they're gonna' get better, stronger."

"So what did I-?"

"Just my senses, from what he can tell. Not the healin'."

"Oh."

He shook his head. "Don't be disappointed with that one, darlin'. You get the best outta' the deal."

"Yeah, because why would I _want_ to have the ability to not get sick or hurt? That would just be silly," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"It ain't all that easy."

"Really?"

"Do you know how old I am?"

I bit my bottom lip hard as punishment to myself. I knew where he was going. "A hundred and something, two hundred?"

"Do you know how many times I've tried killin' myself, only to find out it didn't work?"

"Is this conversation giving me permission to commit suicide if I want, since I'm capable of doing it?" I spurted before I could help it. I bit my tongue, harder than my lip, and quit once I began to taste blood.

His look became stern and he crossed his arms over his chest. His look was meant to be serious and fatherly. It worked on me. But made the students scared and nearly cry. "No," he said his tone strong, "that ain't what this is about, and don't you even think about tryin' it either. What I'm sayin' is that you ain't gonna' have to always watch people die. I will."

"Sorry," I apologized. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Yeah you did."

I shrugged. "I'm still sorry."

"I know."

"Jayden, you have a phone call," Storm said, walking into the gym, holding out the cordless phone to me.

Storm seemed nice, but I hadn't got to spend a lot of time with her. When she wasn't teaching, training to be the team's second leader, or leading the team on actual missions, she was tending her garden. Hank said she had taken Jean's death pretty hard and that was how she chose to work through it, by spending time by herself to think.

"Thank you," I said, taking the phone from her. "Hello?"

"Hey sweetheart."

"Hey mom." Logan let out a small growl, but I ignored him. I had gotten used to it by then. "How are you and dad doing?"

"We're doing good, honey. How about you?"

"I'm doing well."

"Well, I hope I'm not interrupting you. Miss Munroe said that you were in the…gymnasium? With your self defense teacher?"

"Yeah, but we're taking a break right now."

"Well, what are…what are you _doing_, exactly?"

"He's teaching me self defense, mom. That's what he does here; it's his job."

"But it seems like you spend an awful lot of time with him."

I sat down on the edge of one of the mats where Logan and I had been working. "Does it?" I asked. "I mean, I guess I kind of do…I never thought about it."

"Well, nearly every time your father or I call, you're with him."

"Huh, I never noticed." My lying had improved.

"Well, I was just calling to see who you wanted at your welcome home party?"

"Welcome home party? _What _welcome home party?"

"Well, your father and I assumed you would want to have a party when you came home at the end of the month. I thought I should get a headcount of how many people you wanted so that I could send out invitations and get a head start on planning what to have for food."

"Yeah, I sort of wanted to talk to you and dad about that. I'm not…coming home. Not this month."

"What do mean you're not coming home?"

"Dr. McCoy used to lecture at a college here in New York. They have all the classes I want to take and it's not far from the school. The Professor said that I could stay here if I wanted, and…I do. I like it here. I get along with everyone and I can help out Hank with his classes when I'm not in mine."

"No, you're going to go to school here. Back home with us. And who's _Hank_?"

I let out a sigh. "Hank is Dr. McCoy. I told you that I'm helping him with teaching. I'm like a student assistant or something. The Professor even pays me for it." I looked up at Logan. He just stared down at me. "And I'm staying here."

"We're not paying for you to go to a school on the other side of the country."

"I know."

"Then how are you going to go to college without us paying for it?"

"I told you; Professor Xavier is paying me for helping with Hank's classes."

"That's not enough for _college_. Come back home and your father and I will pay for it."

"You don't understand, mom. This is something I _have_ to do."

"You _have_ to do it? You _have_ to go to school in New York? Why?"

"I can't explain it, you just have to believe me, okay?"

"Ever since you ran away, that's been your excuse for everything; we don't understand, this is something you _have_ to do. So what if you get along with everyone there? You have friends here who are about to finish their _first_ year of college. If you come home now, you might be able to take some summer classes and catch up with them this fall."

"They're not my _friends_," I snapped. "They've _never_ been my friends; I only hung out with them because you were always pushing me to. And I'm sorry if my excuse for things lately has been that you don't understand, but you don't. You've never understood. When I'm there, I'm _stuck_. I don't want to be stuck. You and dad are so scared about not being able to watch me at all times that you haven't even let me live."

"So that is living?"

"Mom, _please_, just _try_ to understand."

There was a pause on her end and I thought for a moment that she might have hung up. "You've been gone for nearly four months. You're coming home at the end of this one, and that's final Jayden." And then she did hang up on me.

I turned off the phone and tossed it onto the mat beside me. I buried my face into my hands and let out a frustrated scream.

"What'd she say?" Logan asked.

I took my face out of my hands and looked around. Storm had left and it was just the two of us again. "She said that I have to come home at the end of the month."

"No you don't."

I looked up at him. "She said I had to; she _is_ technically my mother. I have to listen to her."

He plopped down beside me, losing all sense of stealth that he had been exhibiting earlier. "Well _technically_," he said, mocking me, then seriously, "you're eighteen. That means you're an adult, you get to make your own decisions."

"If I don't go home, I'm not going to get to go to college. They're not going to pay for it, and she was right, I'm not going to be able to do it myself on the few hundred dollars I get a month. That is a decision that's made, that I have no control over. No matter how old I am. If they don't pay for it, I can't go."

"Then I'll pay for it."

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "You don't get much more than I do, furry-face. It takes a lot of money."

"Chuck'll help. He's sendin' Marie and Drake, and a few of the other kids."

I shook my head. "I'm not going to let the Professor pay for me. Not when my parents can."

"They want you back there, though."

"Maybe it's not such a bad idea?"

"What?"

"Maybe I _should_ go back."

"Why?"

"I don't know; it just might be a good idea."

"No."

"I could visit during breaks and-"

"No. You're only wantin' to go back to make them happy. I thought you'd gotten over this kid; you gotta' start doin' what _you_ want."

"Maybe this is what I want?"

"Is it?"

"Look, I've disappointed them enough in the past year along to make up for anything that I may have done just to please them before. I'm not going to make you broke, or take money from Xavier just to make me happy. Sometimes there's more to life than just being selfish."

"Lettin' yourself be happy ain't selfish. What do I spend my money on anyway? Beer and cigars? I think you goin' to school is a little more important than that."

"I take your time away; I'm not taking your money, too."

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I don't wanna' spend time with you?" He swore. "That's why you're here, remember? You're _mine_."

I nodded my head. "I'll think about it."

He stood abruptly, obviously upset. "Yeah, think about it. I'll leave you alone."

"Don't be mad."

"Did I say I was?"

"Do you ever need to? It's usually pretty clear."

He turned and stood right in front of me. "You're choosin' the easy way out."

"No I'm not."

"Really? 'I love you mommy and daddy, I'll do anything you want me to. Just tell me who you want me to be!' Tell me that ain't what your doin'."

"Okay!" I yelled, standing up on the mats, trying to make myself eyelevel with him. "So I don't have it all fixed. I do still find it easier to just do what they say. I can't just stand up to them and tell them what I want. The thought of that scares me. I'm _not_ you; I'm your _daughter_."

"You think things don't scare me?"

"You never act like it if they do."

"They do, alright?"

"Like what? Marie nearly dying? That's a little different, Logan. Death scares most people. But even that isn't so terrible for you, is it? Because you always come back. You can bring _her_ back. I'm just a kid, smaller things than death scares me."

"I get scared too."

"About what?"

"Losin' you!" he yelled. "You're mine and you're just gonna' let them take you away from me."

"You didn't even know I existed a year ago."

"It doesn't mean I don't love you now, though," he said, still clearly angry.

I took a deep breath and attempted to keep myself from crying, but I could feel my throat tighten and begin to get sore. "I love you, too," I whispered, trying to keep my voice even. "But I have to do what's best for everyone."

He swore. "No you don't. You gotta' do what's best for you."

"And what if going home _is_ what's best for me?"

"Then do it. But don't feed me some crap about wantin' to stay here if you just wanna' go home."

"It's not crap, I love it here."

"Then _stay_," he said quiet but firmly. I stood there, staring at him, and I didn't know what to say. So I didn't. I cried instead. His resolve quickly softened and he pulled me to him. "Shh."

"I'm sorry; I just want to understand it. I want to know what to do. I need you…I need you…" I sobbed.

"You need me to what? Tell me what you need me to do, darlin'?"

"I need you to make the decision for me."

"I can't."

"Please Logan, I can't do this myself."

"That's the only way you can do it."

"But I'm scared."

His grip tightened on me as he held me closer. "It's 'cause this is important," he whispered in my ear. "You gotta' make this decision yourself, but whatever you decide, I…" He took in a deep breath. "I'm gonna' be here, whatever decision you make."

I buried my face into his shoulder. "I don't want to leave you, but I don't know how to tell them that. I don't know how to explain it to them."

"You don't have to."

My body shook from the sobs, and he continued to hold me to him. He stroked my hair, kissed my forehead, and told me that everything was going to be okay. We both knew that it was probably a lie, but it made me feel better to hear him say it, and he knew that. So he gave that to me.

I pulled back and placed my mouth by his ear. "Can we run away? Just the two of us? I promise I won't bother you."

He kissed my cheek. "Just tell me where you wanna' go, baby. Tell me where and when and I'll take you anywhere."


	6. Whisper

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything, except a slightly wonky made doll named Delia who has one eye bigger than the other. I think she needs a friend so I might make her one and name it Abby. Other than that, I really own nothing. Please enjoy the next chapter and tell me if this thing sucks.

* * *

"Where are you goin' all dolled up?" Logan asked me.

"Dolled up?" I stared up at him from where I was sitting on the steps that led out to the garden.

"You're wearin' a dress."

"Yeah, and flip-flops."

He sat down on the step beside me. "Okay, but why are you wearin' a dress?"

It was the next afternoon and the spring weather felt terrific with the sun warming my skin. I watched him light a cigar and picked a small piece of lint from my dress. "Hank and I have a date tonight," I said simply.

He inhaled sharply and began coughing. He let out a few choice swearwords. "Excuse me?"

I laughed at him. "Not a _real_ date. We're just going to have dinner in the garden."

"Why?" he asked, regaining his composer.

"Well, we thought you might like some 'adult' time to yourself. Without me. For just one night, anyway. Everyone's starting to say that we're joined at the hip. I thought you might want some time to get your reputation back together. It's my gift to you."

He blew out smoke and quirked an eyebrow at me. "For what?"

I shrugged. "Everything you do for me."

I watched his lip curl into a semi-smile, although it was more of a smirk than anything. "You're just tryin' to get outta' workin' in the gym tonight, aren't you?"

I smiled at him. "You found me out." I laughed. "No, I want you to go out tonight without worrying about me. I want you to have fun. Just, you know, not _too_ much fun."

"Well how much?"

"More than Howdy Doody, but not quite Hugh Hefner. Try a little in the middle. A PG-thirteen type of fun."

"Hef's old; he ain't havin' too much fun these days."

I raised my own eyebrow at him. "This coming from a man who's over a hundred? That's great."

"Seriously, why _are_ you doin' this?" He stared at me. I hated it when he did that. I felt exposed, because it always felt like he was looking right into my mind, finding the real truth that I was eluding to him.

"Because you're the best long lost, estranged, biological father a girl could have," I joked.

He took a draw from his cigar. "Wow. That was beautiful, darlin'," he said sarcastically, blowing the smoke from his nose.

I bumped his shoulder with mine. "I'm being serious. You've really picked up the whole father bit pretty well. Psycho father, maybe, but you know what I mean." He looked at me and I gave him a wink.

"Well, you know, for an illegitimate daughter, you ain't too bad either, kid." I laughed, but soon it faded. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them. "What are you worrin' about?" he asked, without even looking at me.

"What to tell my parents," I said, my voice quiet.

He puffed on his cigar for a moment, looking out over the garden as he thought. "Tell 'em the truth. Ain't not point in lyin' to 'em." He looked over at me before tilting my chin up with his hand to look at him. "Don't think about it right now, alright? Just…relax."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "_You_ can't tell me to relax."

"Why not?"

"Because except when you're meditation, you're_ never_ relaxed. You're like a rubber band about to snap. There are very few people in the school that's not scared of you, you know?"

"Are you scared of me?" he asked, and a memory flashed across my mind.

It was a rainy October morning in a motel room. He had been out fighting all night, but was three hours late coming back. He stood in the doorway of a bathroom, with his back turned towards me.

"_Are you scared of me?"_ he had asked quietly.

"_No,"_ I told him. _"You've never given me a reason to be."_

"_Even after all the stuff you've seen me do to other people?"_

"_From what I can tell, they screwed you over. All of them knew what you were capable of and when you started doing what they had been trying to train you to do; they got paid back for what they had taken from you."_

"_But you don't know me; you don't know when I might snap. Doesn't that scare you at all?" _

"_Do you want it to?"_

Before I knew what was going on, he had turned and was right in my face. He grabbed me by the upper arms and shook me. _"I'm an animal kid, don't you get that?"_ he had growled at me. _"This ain't no freakin' pettin' zoo. You can't just come in, not knowin' me, thinkin' that you're gonna' be safe. Didn't your parents teach you not to trust_ _strangers?_ I'm _who they were talkin' about._ I'm _why they were tellin' you to stay away from. I hurt people. What makes you think I won't hurt you?"_

I had said the only thing I could think of. _"Because I trust you,"_ I said quietly.

He had let out a loud growl, right in my face. _"How can you trust me, I don't trust myself!"_ He shook me again, and for the first and only time out of my knowing him, I was scared of him. He had stared at me with dark eyes and sniffed the air. _"So, now you're scared of me?"_ I had tried to pull away from him, but I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. Instead, he pulled me back to him and lowered his mouth to my ear. I could feel his hot angry breath on my neck. _"Maybe you should stay that way."_

I looked at Logan sitting on the stoop beside me, my memory flash over, and I tried to push it away. "No," I said. "I'm not scared of you."

He nodded. "Good."

I lay my head on his shoulder and let out a sigh. He was so different then. We both were. He had just lost Jean, he was worried about Marie, and he had just found out that I was his daughter. Yeah, that happened _after_ he knew. He thought he could scare me off, I would go back home, and live with my parents, happily ever after. Never knowing that my father was a pain ridden, amnesiac that left me when I was born.

He didn't scare me off, but the events that day led to him leaving me in the middle of the road, in freezing cold rain. The town, two hours back, however, happened to be where my biological mother lived. Coincidence? Not quite. He won't ever answer me straight, but I have a theory that the Professor knew Logan would blow up and just so happened to arrange it where I could find some answers that I needed. Which I did.

And after a week of moping, sulking, crying, screaming, and just being depressed in general, Logan came back for me. He came back, but that night I found out who he was, and the next day, I left. It had nothing to do with wishing he wasn't my father, and everything to do with the fact that I believed that I wasn't part of his family. I didn't know that he knew who I was then. So I wrote him a letter and told him. But I also told him that he needed to go back to Marie, that she needed him. He could take care of her and think of me. That was before I realized that he was in love with her.

* * *

"You look beautiful, Miss Rivers!" Hank said later that evening.

"Thank you, Mr. McCoy," I said, then thanked him again as he pulled out my chair for me. "You look pretty spiffy yourself."

Most of the students had gone to the movies or out shopping for the night. There was an end of the school year dance in just a few weeks, and the girls were panicking about what to wear. Either way, the school was pretty empty. And the garden was completely so, save for the two of us.

"I do hope I remembered correctly in thinking that you like General Tso's Chicken?"

I smiled at him. "Yes, you remembered perfectly. That's my favorite Chinese food. That and the little fried chips they give you with your soup."

He laughed. "Ah, yes, those are quite good." He began to fill both of our plates with rice. "Did you know that the fortune cookie actually didn't originate in China?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"Yes, instead they were actually created in California around the time of World War Two."

I smiled at him. "That's cool, I really didn't know that," I said, as he continued to fill our plates. My mind slipped from our conversation on fortune cookies to something else as I thought. "Hank, may I ask you something?"

"Absolutely, you may ask me whatever you wish."

I leaned over the table some, positioning myself closer to him. "How should I tell my parents that I want to stay here, to make them understand?"

He paused for a moment and looked up at me. "They don't know about Logan?" I shook my head. "Without intending to be nosy, may I ask why?"

"I don't know what to say. I mean, what did you think _knowing_ him, when you found out that he had a daughter?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"I was quite nervous. At that point, he saw me as trying to take over a position that he still believed belonged to Jean, and we didn't really…get along quite well. I let him get to me once or twice and we argued a few times. I didn't see how he could take care of anyone, not when he couldn't even stay at the school long enough to help get it back in order, or to help Rogue cope with how she was feeling. Not to mention his terrible temper outbursts. After Scott went and spoke with you and your family, he came back saying how much like Logan you were. To be quite honest, I was slightly dreading your arrival. I was sure that you would be all of his bad traits wrapped up in a much younger form. But I was wrong. I think you're a pleasant, delightful, smart and beautiful person. You're all of Logan's _good_ traits, and you help to bring them out in him, as well. Has there been a few things that he's done as a parent that I wouldn't do personally? Yes. But your relationship is quite unique and you should celebrate it, not hide it."

"But if you thought all of that, knowing him, how are they going to react _not_ knowing him? I don't know if you've noticed or not, but his first impression isn't exactly that of a happy-go-lucky Ward Cleaver kind of guy. He sort of acts like a crazed convict, one that escaped from prison, not let out. I know he's not a bad guy, that he can actually be thoughtful at times and that he's _brilliant_. But I know him. How are they going to act if they don't know that? How are they going to act when they find out that I've lied to them the whole time about this school? That Logan, who's a teacher here, is also the same man that I ran away from home to meet. I don't know what to say to them."

"You have to do what you feel is right in your heart. You are clairvoyant you know, you should have a strong intuitive insight into the situation. Use it."

"Yeah, well, my intuition is failing me right now. It's not telling me what to do, all it's saying it that my parents are going to explode if they find out, and I'm…I'm left trying to decide which is more important; the parents who chose me, raised me, took care of me nearly all of my life and have pretty much done everything for me, but who I've never felt close to, or…Logan." I let out a sigh and shook my head. "He's a temperamental jerk at times, yeah, but I've never been as close to anyone, never felt a _connection_ with anyone, until I met him."

"Well, when one's mind is telepathically linked with another's, it does tend to cause a strong connection with that person," he said with a gentle smile. "But go on."

"He's my best friend and I don't want to lose him or let him down, but I don't want to disappoint my parents, either. What do I do?"

"Honestly Jayden, I don't know. I wish I could help you, but I don't know what to tell you to do. This is a decision that you are going to have to make on your own, because no matter what anyone tells you to do, you're the one that's going to have to live with the repercussions of it."

"I know," I said with a heavy sigh. "I know."

"Knowing the problem is half of finding the solution. You know the problem, that's half way there."

"I just don't want to screw this up; I don't want to fail either of them."

"The fear should not be in the failing, as failing shows that you tried. What your fear should be in is not trying, of never attempting anything, of not growing. Someone very wise once told me that they never fail; they simply succeed in discovering what doesn't work."

One of the things that I loved about Hank was that he was capable of holding a proper conversation, entertaining me, and giving me advice and his opinion all in the matter of a few minutes, and still remain as charming as ever. No matter what I was thinking about, he could put my mind at ease. And he always made the complicated things seem simple, even when I still didn't know what I was going to do about them.

* * *

"Hey, you're home early," I said to Logan as I walked into the den later that night.

"I didn't leave."

"Why not?"

"Thought I'd stay in and watch TV while the runts were gone."

"This is a school, you know? There's _supposed_ to be kids here."

He looked up at me and flashed me a wicked smirk. "Actually, I was talkin' about Summers." I rolled my eyes and sat down beside him. "You and Hank have a good time."

"Yeah, we ate, talked, danced, ate some more. Why does Chinese food fill you up, but like, an hour later, you're hungry again?"

"Don't know."

"Did you have good 'adult time' to yourself?"

"Hey Logan, the only thing I could find was Molson, is that alright? Xavier has the liquor cabinet locked up tighter than Fort Knox."

I looked and saw Marie walk into the room, holding two cans of beer. "Oh," I said, realizing why he had opted to stay in.

"Oh, hey Jayden. Are you gonna' stay and watch the movie with us?"

"Uh, no, I just came to tell Logan goodnight," I lied. "I'm going to go on and go up to my room for the night."

"Are you sure? It's 'The Blues Brothers'?"

"Yeah, I'm about half way through Logan's copy of 'War of The Worlds', so I should probably try to finish that while I have time this weekend," I said and stood. "But you have fun."

"Alright, goodnight."

"Night," I said quietly, trying to hurry from the room.

"I'll see you in the mornin'," I heard Logan say.

I turned and gave him a painfully forced smile. "First thing."

"Night darlin'."

"Night Logan." I rushed from the den, trying to get to my room as quickly as possible. I just needed to be by myself for a while.

"Hey, you okay?" I heard someone ask.

I stopped just outside of my door. It was Scott. My heart instantly sped up and I could hear it in my ears. I smiled at him. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, tucking a lose strand of hair behind my ear. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

He flashed me one of his bright smiles and I heard my heart pick up speed again. I wasn't enjoying the 'growing' of my senses. "Oh yeah, what guy _doesn't_ have fun chaperoning a bunch of girls trying to pick out dresses?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I give you my sympathies. I had to go shopping for prom last year and my mother thought it would be a 'great' idea to invite some other girls to go with us. I wanted to pull my hair out every time one of them asked; Does this make me look fat? I was tempted to say yes so many times. I mean, they were these disgustingly skinny, beautifully perfect cheerleaders, and they thought they were fat, or ugly. It drove me crazy. I ended up faking sick so that I didn't have to go to the actual prom. It was terrible."

"So you know how I feel, then? I don't know why they didn't ask Storm. They said they wanted a guy's opinion, but they weren't listening to anything I said."

I smiled at him. "That's because they didn't_ really_ want a guy's opinion; they just wanted you to compliment them because they think that you're hot."

"Really?"

"Yeah, pretty much all of them do."

"Is it that obvious?" I continued to smile and nodded my head. "Well, it's good to know I'm so observant," he joked, running his hand back through his hair.

"Yeah, it would be bad if you were the leader of a team that saves the world, or something. Because then you might be in a bit of trouble."

"Oh well," he said with a sigh. "Did you and Hank have a good night?"

"Yeah, it was fun."

"Good. I was wondering why you weren't going shopping for a dress with everyone, but after tonight, I completely understand."

"Actually, I don't know if I'm going to the dance or not."

"Why not?"

I shrugged. "I might go home before then."

He took a few steps closer to me. "I didn't know you were going home, I thought you were staying here?"

"I uh, I don't know. I thought about it, but I don't know if it's right for me."

He took a couple more steps, closing the gap between us. "Is this about Logan?" he asked in a low voice. I shook my head. "Is it about Rogue?" I looked away from him. He put his hand on my shoulder. "They've always been close, they came here together, and he's saved her life more times than I know, I'm sure. Right now she's just having a hard time getting through her breakup with Bobby. In a few weeks, everything will go back to how it was. Right now's just a rough patch."

I looked up at him. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I couldn't keep my heart rate down. He was touching my shoulder and my body took that as a signal to start my heart jack hammering in my chest and my knees to go weak. "You don't believe that though, do you? This isn't just a 'rough patch'; it's not a patch of anything. I knew that Rogue had a crush on Logan, I've always known, but…it's not just a crush anymore. Not for either of them."

"You don't have to leave, though."

"I'm here because of Logan."

"He's not leaving you," he said. I shook my head. "And you don't have to stay here for him. Ever since you started helping Hank with his classes a few months ago, he actually has time to spend outside of the lab, now. He took Jean's death hard, too. We were all students here at the same time. We were all friends. But you've done a lot for him. You've done a lot for _me_. You're a good person, and you're a lot wiser and stronger than you let on. You're a good friend."

"Thank you Scott, I really appreciate that."

"I mean it completely and whole heartedly, Jayden. You're a part of this family now."

I blushed a little. He took his hand from my shoulder but kept himself close enough to me to still indicate that the conversation wasn't over yet. I looked him right into his glasses, hoping that I was looking into his eyes. "Thank you," I said again, quiet and sincerely. "I have a lot of thinking to do about my decision, but that really means a lot to hear you say that."

"Go to the dance at least. You didn't go to the prom, so stay and go to ours."

I gave him a small smile. "I don't know."

"Come on, you can be my date." My breathing caught for only a second, but I heard it. I was just hoping that he didn't. His smile made me want to melt, and I fought to keep my knees from buckling out from underneath me. "Think about it," he said, still smiling at me.

I nodded. "I will, I promise."

"If you ever need to…talk, about anything, you know my door's always open, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. So when you need someone to talk this over with, whether you want my opinion or just need to vent, then you know where to find me. I know you probably think of me as some old teacher just trying to act like I know what you're going through-"

I laughed. "First of all, you're not old, and second, you might be a teacher, but you're not mine and I certainly don't see you as that, or as someone pretending to know what I'm going through. I trust you Scott, and over the past few months I've really come to value your opinion, as well as your friendship. I'm just confused right now-"

"About Logan or about staying?" he interrupted.

"Both," I admitted.

"This probably isn't something you want to hear, and it's not really something I want to say, but if you want to keep a relationship with Logan, inside _or _outside of the school, you're probably going to have to get used to the idea of him being wit h a woman at some point in your life together. Right now, it might be Rogue."

"Rogue's _barely_ older than me, that's not a woman," I hissed out quietly.

"Your parents have always been together, right?" I nodded. "And so you're not used to sharing either one of them, are you?"

"This isn't about sharing. It just…it sort of creeps me out that he likes someone that's not much older than me. I mean, he's ruled out me dating completely while I'm here because he says I'm too young. Now tell me how _that_ one works out?"

"I can't," he said. "I'm not a father."

"Technically-"

He smiled but interrupted me. "No technically. Xavier's not my related to me in anyway, but he's the best father I've ever had. As far as I'm concerned, he _is_ my father. Blood has nothing to do with it. It's the people involved that do. Relationships, no matter what kind they are, need-"

"Work. Yes, I know."

"It's true, though. If you want to keep it working, there needs to be give on both sides. Maybe now's just a time when you need to give a little bit."

"You don't find it creepy-"

"I don't judge what either of them do or think. They're both consenting adults, it's their decision."

"And you _really_ believe that? You _hate_ Logan; I have a hard time believing that you don't care what he does, especially when it involves one of your students."

"_Ex_-students. Rogue doesn't go to school here anymore, she's in college now. The way I see it; if she's old enough to put on a uniform and go out and fight with the team, she's old enough to make her own decisions in her love life."

"You didn't answer my questions; do you really believe that when you hate Logan?"

"I don't _hate_ him." I cocked my eyebrow at him. "I don't. I don't like him, but I have never _hated_ him. So what he does in his own time is his business. As long as it doesn't disrupt the school or the team, I don't have a right to say anything." I looked away. "You've know about it for a while, haven't you?"

"What, that they like each other, and that Logan had finally stopped seeing her as a daughter figure when I showed up? Then yeah, I've known about that ever since it started."

"Then why is tonight different?"

"I don't know."

"Really?"

I looked up at him and he had a faint smile on his face. I shook my head. "Tonight with Hank, that was to give him time by himself because I was afraid that I was spending too much time with him. I know that he needs time to be by himself some times, so I wanted to give him some space. So when our date was over, I went into the den and he was there. I thought he had just gotten home early when he said that he thought he just stay in and watch TV while everyone was gone. Then Rogue came in. That's when I realized _why_ he had stayed in: Because of her."

"So?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. It just bit me different tonight for some reason. And my parents called yesterday."

"What did they say?"

"That I have to come home at the end of the month of they won't pay for my college. Everything's up and down right now. I don't know what to do. And it just affected me tonight for some reason. I think I just need to get some sleep and think about it all."

He nodded. "Then do that. Look, this is all up to you, it's none of my business. I hope you pick what's best for you though, alright? And I mean what I said earlier; anytime you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here to listen."

I nodded. "Thank you. Goodnight Scott."

"Goodnight Jayden."

I went to bed that night, not minding to take off my dress. I rocked myself back and forth, humming quietly, all the while crying. The past two days had held far too much emotion and confusion for me, and I couldn't help but break down. It was the only thing I knew was right to do; everything else was still a mystery to me.

* * *

I woke the next morning to a commotion in the hall. I had thought it was a dream to begin with, but the more I woke, the more I realized I wasn't dreaming. I was intent on letting any of the other adults handle it until I heard Logan yell something.

_He's in a fight with Scott again, great,_ I thought.

Then I heard Hank's voice. He was yelling, too.

I jumped from my bed, expressing agility that can't be taught and was out in the hall in under five seconds. I saw the two of them, facing each other in the hall, both with their teeth bared and growling. I had never seen Hank look so feral, and for a moment, I was taken aback. I stared at them both, trying to figure out what was going on. Why were they fighting? As soon as Logan yelled something, Hank would yell his reply back. I couldn't understand what either was saying, except for a few swear words from Logan and my name being spit by both of them. After a reply from Hank that Logan apparently didn't like, he popped his claws and dropped into a fighting stance. I didn't know what was going on, but I decided it probably shouldn't involve Logan's claws.

I ran to where they were and stood between them. I faced Logan. "What's going on?"

"Get outta' the way, darlin'."

"Logan put your claws up." He didn't. "Logan, please. I don't know what this is about, but I think you can settle it without having to use those." He didn't even blink. He just kept his gaze on Hank, who was standing behind me. Both of them were towering over me. "You're _scaring_ me." He turned his eyes to me and then retracted his claws. "_What_ is going on?"

"Just something that me and McCoy gotta' settle. Go back to bed."

"You're the one that woke me up," I said. "And I don't want the two of you fighting. I want to know what's going on."

"It's nothing Jayden, don't worry about it," Hank said.

"If I move, is one of you going to take a swing at the other?"

There was a few seconds of silence before both of them mumbled 'no'. I moved from between them and stood where I could see them both.

"God back to your room, kid. We're all right now."

"No, I heard someone say my name when you were yelling at each other, so obviously this involves me. Now one of you explain what's going on."

"In short, Hank told me I needed to stop tryin' to keep you here. He said it's none of my business and I needed to let you make up your own mind. Then Summers came through and said that you told him that you were gonna' go home. So it looks like McCoy needs to be the one mindin' his freakin' business."

"I never said that it wasn't any of your business, Logan. I said that you didn't need to try to persuade her a certain way because she was having a difficult enough time trying to decide what to do on her own without you confusing her even more."

"You were tellin' her to get away from me."

"No one told me to get away from you Logan, that's absurd."

"What'd the two of you talk about last night then? Why'd you run off so fast in the den, if you weren't tryin' to get away from me?"

"Yes, Hank and I discussed the topic of whether I should stay here or not," I said as more and more students began to congregate around the three of us. "But no one was telling me what to do."

"You told Summers you'd made up your mind about goin' home."

"No, I said that I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I was giving serious thought about going home, that it might be best if I did. I haven't made up my mind about anything."

He swore. "Why would you think it would be best if you went home? You don't care about your parents; they won't let you do anything. What's the point?"

"First of all, do _not_ say that I don't care about them, I do. They've raised me and taken care of me since I was _four_."

"You told me that you weren't happy with them," he said in a hushed voice.

"And I'm not going to be happy in a place where you get into fights with my friends, either," I said. "This isn't an easy decision, but everyone just needs to drop it and let me make it. I'm eighteen, not stupid, and I'm fully capable of thinking on my own. Don't think I'm influenced so easily."

"This ain't just about you."

"Logan, let it go," Hank warned.

"This is about _us_."

"_Logan_," Hank said, his tone strong and firm.

"You're _my_ daughter; you belong to _me_, not them!"

And that was the day the cat was let out of the bag. Or should that be wolverine? Either way, up until that point, only the staff knew that I was his daughter. I didn't want anyone to know because it didn't concern them. But that morning, with spit flying from his mouth as he yelled, he informed the entire group of twenty or so students standing there. By lunch time that same day, the whole school would know.

"I don't _belong_ to anyone! I'm a person, not a piece of property!"

"Jayden, I'm sure that's not how he meant it," Hank said, trying to calm me. "Why don't the two of you talk about this later?"

The argument was no longer between him and Logan. It was between me and Logan. He saw the shift, saw that their argument was out the window. He tried to stop it, but he hadn't been able to.

"No, I want to talk about it now," I said. "But not out here." I took hold of Logan's arm and began pulling him towards my room. Four months before, I hadn't been able to make him budge, but there I was, dragging him down the hall with me. My door was already open from my rush to get out only minutes earlier.

"What do you wanna' talk about?" he asked as I closed my door.

"How about the fact that you just told every student standing out there and within hearing distance that you're my father when you promised you wouldn't say anything?"

"What, are you embarrassed for them to know I'm you're real father, instead of your perfect daddy back in California? Are you so ashamed of me that you don't want them thinkin' you got anything to do with me?"

"Yes, Logan, that's it; I'm embarrassed and ashamed of you, that's why I've been here with you for four months," I said sarcastically. "No, I just don't think it's any of their business. There are some things I don't want everyone knowing."

"Like you tellin' Scooter that you were goin' home?"

"I didn't _say_ that. I said I might, _might_. Not that I am."

"Alright, fine, we're done then."

"Far from it. You just got into a fight in the hall. You popped your _claws_."

"Yeah."

"What do you mean 'yeah'? You got into a fight with Hank!"

"So?"

"So? It's Hank! What do you do in your spare time; kick puppies and drown kittens?"

"You know, I don't know who you got a bigger crush on; Summers or McCoy."

"I do _not_ have a crush on Hank."

"What about Scott?"

"That's none of your business."

He swore. "'Cause you're an adult, right?" he said sarcastically. "And for someone without a crush on Beast, you hang out with him an awful lot. You wanna' change your answer, or is that none of my business too?"

"Yeah I spend a lot of time with him. He's helping me get ready for college, he's teaching me about science and Latin. He watches movies with me that don't have people getting shot every two minutes. I can have a _conversation_ with him. He dances with me. I'm sorry if I'm friends with someone that you don't agree with."

"Is that what you want me to do? 'Cause I can't. This is me, this is what I am. I don't dance in kitchens. So if that's what you want from me, maybe you _should_ go back home, 'cause I can't give that to you."

I stared him right in the eye. "You would for Marie," I said quiet but firmly. He looked away from me. I nodded my head silently. "I have to get ready, so please leave."

He didn't say anything, he just did as I asked, and I was left standing there wondering why everything had to be so complicated.


	7. Burden of Confusion

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything Marvel, Fox or otherwise. I am, however, sick and I'm giving serious thought to scooping myself a bowl of ice cream and sitting in front of the TV all night, watching episodes of 'NCIS' from the season one DVD. Comments are adored and welcomed, as would anything to help clear up my sinuses. Much love ya'll, please enjoy.

* * *

"Hey, your shoe's untied."

"What?"

"Your shoe, it's untied.

I had decided to go for a run. I had a lot of pent up frustration from not only that morning, but the two days before it as well, and I needed some way to get it out of me. The gym wasn't an option because there were too many disruptions, not to mention that the students were already talking about the fight and Logan's slip of the tongue. No, I needed out of the school. I was running to a near by park when someone informed me that my shoe was untied.

"Thanks," I said as I bent down to tie it.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around here before, are you new?" he asked. He looked a little older than me, maybe mid-twenties. He had dirty blonde hair and, from what I could see, brown eyes.

"Do you run here so much that you remember all of the other people who run, too?"

"Something like that," he said with a smile as I stood. "_Are_ you new?"

"Not really. I've been living here for about five months, I guess. This is my first time running here, though."

"Then that's why I don't know you. Where did you move here from?"

"California."

"Where did you move to?"

"I'm staying at the Xavier Institute for the gifted."

"Are you serious? I've always wondered what that place looks like on the inside. I've only seen the front of it through the gates. What do you do there? I mean, since it's for gifted people."

"I don't actually. I'm not really there because I'm gifted. My dad works there as a teacher so I'm just here visiting him. But I help out with the science classes."

"What's it like?"

"It's pretty nice, I like it there," I said, tucking a small, lose piece of fallen hair behind my ear. I smiled at him and looked at my watch. "Actually, I should probably be getting back."

"Do you mind if I run with you? It's on the route to my house."

"Uh, yeah, sure."

He smiled at me and stuck out his hand. "I'm Ben, by the way."

"Hi Ben, I'm Jayden."

He joined me on my run back to the school and we stopped just outside of the gates.

"I can't believe you live here; this place is massive."

"Yeah, it too me a while to get used to the size of it. I still get a little confused sometimes."

"How long are you visiting for?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well maybe you can find out and we can do something sometime? Get something to eat or go see a movie, or whatever."

"Uh," I said as I heard the engine of a motorcycle get louder, closer to where we were standing. "Great," I muttered.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," he said.

"No, sorry, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to myself," I said. I could see the motorcycle turn the corner and begin down the street where the school was located. "I would have to get back to you on that, but it sounds like fun."

The motorcycle pulled up to the gate and Logan let it idle, staring at the two of us. I pressed the button on the intercom to signal for someone to open the gate, but otherwise attempted to ignore him. He cut the engine. "Who's this?" he asked, nodding his head towards Ben.

"I'm Ben Kelly, sir," he said, reaching to shake Logan's hand. He just stared at it, o he retracted it. "We met in the park and I run back home this was, so I thought I'd just join her."

Logan didn't say anything. He just continued staring at him. "Don't you have someone you should be getting into a fight with?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

He looked at me, looking me up and down once. "Don't you have a shirt you should be wearin'?"

I was wearing a sports bra and exercise pants. I had worked hard to get in as good a shape as I was and didn't see the problem in being proud of it. I rolled my eyes as him and watched the gate to the school slowly swing open. He started the motorcycle and drove through, his tires spitting gravel as he sped off.

"Who was that?" Ben asked.

"That was my dad." He stared at me for a minute, his mouth slightly agape. "Yeah, that's how I feel some days, too."

* * *

"How was your run?" Hank asked as I entered the kitchen. He was sitting at the island, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, as if nothing had happened that morning.

"Good," I said, taking a bottled water from the refrigerator.

"No, no, you need to drink some juice." I turned around and looked at him, my eyebrow cocked. "When you run, you sweat and your body loses more than just water."

"Do you ever just want to screw all of that and do something even though you know it's not good for you?"

"Yes."

"Really?" I asked, pulling out a bottle of Gatorade instead and closing the refrigerator door. I leaned up against the counter. "Like what?"

"I do believe you've seen me put away a few Twinkies before." He smiled at me.

"Just one or two," I said, opening the bottle and drinking nearly half of it at once.

"I apologize for this morning; that was my fault. You should never have been involved. I merely wanted to express my concerns to Logan about whether or not he was putting any type of pressure on you. I realize now that it was none of my business and I wanted to tell you how very sorry I am."

I gave him a small smile. "I know. I just think that right now, anything's bound to cause a fight. It's no one's fault. Everything's just sort of stressful. I don't know."

"Maybe you should speak to your parents again. They might be able to relieve some of your stress."

"And then we're back to what am I supposed to say to them? I thought this would be easy."

"Any specific reason why?"

I laughed. "Yes; I'm a teenager, I haven't learned to see the whole picture yet. And I'm wildly naive," I joked. "I don't know…I just don't know. This whole thing is messed up. It's not even a situation where I can ask what other people did when they were in my position. I can't just say, Hey, what did you say when you explained to your adoptive parents that instead of going home and doing what they wanted, you wanted to stay at a school for mutants, where your biological father is a teacher. And while you're at it, how did you break the news to them that said father is the same man that you _ran away from home_ to meet, without actually knowing who he was at the time. Oh, and by the way, the _reason_ why I'm at a school for mutants and would like to stay is because I _am_ a mutant, and wouldn't you know it, I haven't told them that either. Got any pointers? I some how don't see myself asking _anyone_ that."

"It is a very unique situation, I agree."

"That's looking at it positively."

"Why have you waited this long to speak to them about it?"

"Because I'm a spineless jellyfish who doesn't like to do anything my parents might disagree with. Including the possibility of staying on the other side of the country."

"You're not _that_ bad, I'm sure," Rogue said, walking into the kitchen. She had a tendency of interrupting my conversations. "Why don't you just tell them that you want to go to college here because Hank can get you in and it's foolproof? You don't even have to mention Logan."

"It's not that simple. My parents only let me come here because they insisted that I see a psych last year. After I told him about everything, he and the Professor spoke. He told my parents that I should come here. That is would be good for me. They sent me here because they trusted the doctor's opinion. They're not going to let me stay here a day longer than what he recommended."

"Well, talk to him. Get him to tell your parents that you need to stay here longer. If he tells them that, then they'll listen, won't they?" And for once, she had a good idea.

I left the kitchen immediately and made a beeline for the Professor's office. I knocked on his door, and he called for me to come in.

"Good morning, Jayden. How are you today?" he asked with a smile.

"I need to ask you for a favor, sir."

"And what would that be?"

"Could you call Dr. Lewis and have him tell my parents that I need to stay here longer? And that attending collage away from home would be best for me, for a while."

"Is that true?"

I shrugged. "Sort of."

"Jayden, I can't lie to your parents for you."

"Oh, I know. That's why I want you to call Dr. Lewis. He can lie to them."

He gave me another smile. "Don't you feel the truth would be better?"

"No sir, I don't."

"Then don't you think you owe it to yourself to assert your own independence and let them know that this is what you want?"

"If I tell them that, then they won't pay for me to go to college here."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome."

* * *

"Thought I'd find you here," Logan's rough voice said, breaking my long silence. But I had heard him walking. Heard him stop. Heard him breathing as he stood, watching me meditate.

"Why did you think that?" I asked, not minding to open my eyes.

"'Cause this is where I go when I wanna' get away from everyone, too."

"Well, it obviously didn't work." I was sitting in Storm's garden at the top of the school. It was late in the evening, the sun had started to set and everything felt perfect outside. Which was good, because inside, everything wasn't going too great. Not with me anyway.

"Can we talk for a minute, kid?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was only a few feet away from me. "Go ahead."

"I know I screwed up today-"

"Gee, you think?" I said sarcastically.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm tryin' to apologize." I rolled my eyes at him. He took a few steps closer and sat down in front of me. "I'm sorry." I didn't say anything. "I am."

"I'm confused."

"I know."

"And I'm scared."

"I know."

We both sat silently, enjoying the view of the sun sinking behind the woods of the school. There was no need to say anything. Sometimes silence says it all. I remembered after one of our first meditation sessions, I said that it was so quiet that I could hear my heartbeat. He said that he could hear it, too. I had been amazed by that up until a few days ago, when my own enhanced hearing had kicked in. Since then, everything was a mixture of normal and enhanced sound. Like it couldn't make up its mind. Right then, it was working. I listened to his easy breathing, his steady heartbeat, as well as my own.

"Can we run away now?" I asked quietly as the last of the sun dipped low behind the wood, leaving the sky in a wash of red and orange and pink.

I saw him look at me from the corner of my eye as I continued to watch the sky. "Where do you wanna' go?"

"I don't care. I just want to be with you and not have to worry about anything else."

"Okay," he said. I looked him in the eye. He was serious. "Let's go."

* * *

"Well, this certainly brings back memories," I said, walking into the motel room we had checked into.

"Yeah," he said, immediately pulling the comforter from his bed. I was only two steps behind in pulling mine from my own bed. Neither of us would sleep under one if we had the choice. "More for me than you, I'm sure."

"I was actually referring to the two months I lived out of one with you last year. Bouncing around from town to town every few days. I kind of got used to moving so much. I even sort of liked it," I said, sitting down on my bed. "When I went back home…" I shook my head. "They wouldn't let me out of their sight. I couldn't go anywhere. I felt like a caged animal, or something."

"That's 'cause we're not meant to stay in one place for very long, kid. Doesn't work that way, not for us."

"I'm fine at the school, though."

"Then why are we here?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

I gave him a short, small smile. "Good point."

"People are gonna' try to make you feel like there's something wrong with always needin' to move, but there ain't. There ain't nothing wrong with not puttin' roots down somewhere, if you don't want to. There ain't nothing wrong with it if you want to, either. You're always gonna' have people on your back, tellin' you what to do, but if you let them decide your life for you, then there ain't no point in livin' anymore."

I nodded. "I'm trying to work that one out still."

He sat down on his bed beside mine and turned on the TV. "You'll figure it out sooner or later, darlin'." He flipped the channels and landed on a black and white movie. "Until then, let's watch the Stooges." The camera panned across the Three Stooges. Moe, Larry, and Curly-Joe. He turned it off. "Never mind," he said. Curly-Joe was both of our least favorite of the stooges. Although it took a while to figure that out.

I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. "Do you still think about Jean?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Everyday."

"What's it like to lose someone you love that much?"

"It hurts like Hell."

"I don't want to ever feel that way."

"You'll have to some day."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. I can't die, kid, so you can't lose me. I promise. I won't ever leave you like that."

"Logan, what if…what if something happens to me?"

"I'll always take care of you, nothing's gonna' happen to you."

"I can take care of myself, you taught me how, remember? What if something else happens to me? What if I get sick or something?"

"I'm still gonna' be there, and I'm gonna' make sure you get better."

"What if I can't? What if there's nothing you can do?"

"Is there something you wanna' tell me?"

I shook my head. "No, I just can't help this feeling that before I die, I'm going to be in a lot of pain and…it scares me."

"You got a long time before you die darlin', so don't worry about it."

"I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If anything ever happens to me, you won't let me suffer, you'll make it stop."

"Kid-"

"If you did it for Mariko when she was in pain, and she was your wife, she was carrying your baby, then you can do it for me, too. I just need you to promise me that you will."

"If anything ever happens to you that neither of us can stop and it's either die then or suffer and die later, then yeah, if you ask me to I will. But I told you; I ain't gonna' let anything happen to you, alright?" I nodded. "Come here," he said. I went from my bed to his and he pulled me to him, cradling me. "I'm gonna' take care of you. You're mine and I'm not gonna' let anyone take you away from me."

Everything inside of me wanted to believe him, but there was just an overwhelming intuitive feeling that I couldn't shake, and it wouldn't let me believe him. But for that night, I pretended that it could be possible.

* * *

I felt something hard. It was concrete.

I felt something rough _and_ hard. It was rusty metal.

I felt freezing cold water. I had always known that one. It had taken me awhile to figure out for sure what the other two were. But that one…that one I had always known. I also felt pain. In my arm. In my leg. I felt a pain in my chest and then it was all over.

I woke with a gasp. The sun streaming in through the small crack in the curtains seemed like a light being shone right into my eyes. The small motel room seemed to have taken on a stronger, muskier smell since I had gone to sleep the night before. The air conditioner that had been barely audible the night before seemed to be blaring in my ears. I tasted everything that I smelled, plus something I couldn't quite figure out, but it was all magnified. Everything. Every sense. And it gave me a headache.

"You okay, darlin'?"

I looked over at Logan who was sitting up in his bed. "Yeah."

"Bad dream?"

"Something like that," I said. "How do you deal with your senses being this strong? They're giving me a headache."

"You get used to it."

"It smells in here."

"Same as it did last night to me." He looked at me. "You sure you're alright? You don't look so good."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, sitting up to look at him. "I just had that feeling again."

"You mean the one where your top comes open during class and I kill all the guys lookin'?"

"No, that was a dream, not a feeling." I rolled my eyes. "I'm talking about the one where I feel the concrete, metal and water."

"The one Chuck said was-"

"Yeah," I interrupted him.

Ever since I started having those 'feelings', I talked to the Professor about it. He had said that it was from Jean. They had started the day I had been given her old uniform and he said that my mind had connected with some of her energy. I was receiving some of her last memories and that's what the feelings were. The concrete was part of the dam that broke, and the cold water was from the waves that had engulfed her. He didn't know about the metal, though. And the pain, that was new. It had started that morning.

"So is everything alright, then?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good."

"What time is it?"

"Noon."

"Crap, I missed half my classes."

"I called and talked to the Professor and told him what was goin' on, it's alright." I fell back into my bed. "So how long are we runnin' for?"

"I don't know," I muttered, covering my face with my arms. "I haven't decided yet. Why, are you in a hurry?"

"No, just curious if you were wantin' to go get something to eat or go back to the school for lunch?"

"When I actually get up, which, mind you, could take a while, I would like to go somewhere. Preferably somewhere with barbeque or pizza and sweets."

"What happened to your 'healthy eatin' kick you've been on for the past three months?"

"Four months, and I'm taking a break. No working out, no meditating, just sleep and lots of food."

I heard him laugh. "Great dedication, kid."

I pulled my arm away and looked at him. "I beg your pardon, but do you even know how hard it's been for me to eat grilled chicken and plain spinach salads for four months straight, and only have _one_ sweet a week? I can't even share a Twinkie with Hank when I'm helping him in the lab. I haven't cheated _once_ the whole time. Not to mention that I haven't missed a trip to the gym or a session in the Danger Room since I started. I get up at the crack of dawn to meditate, and then I do it again as soon as I'm done with classes. I might argue with you, but I don't complain. I do what I'm told. I think I deserve a break."

"Honestly, I never understood why you were doin' it to begin with."

"Because we don't all have you metabolism. I wasn't born with a six-pack. If I want to be able to a jump spin kick, or anything else, I have to work for it."

"What's the point in bein' able to do it if you ain't enjoyin' your life?"

"Because I'd much rather be able to protect myself than eat a double cheese burger."

I saw him give me a short smirk. "I think we passed just protectin' yourself a long time ago. You're on something else completely now, darlin'."

"Never mind the barbeque and pizza, I don't need it. Let's go somewhere healthy."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You said you deserved it and you do, so that's what we're gonna' do."

"No, because I'll feel bad if I do."

"Your ability to move ain't got anything to do with what you eat or how you work out. No one at the school, outta' all of the students I teach, has even picked up what I taught 'em as fast as you did. Not only did you pick it up faster than anyone else, you do stuff most people can't do that've been workin' out for years."

"What do you mean? What do I do that other people can't?"

"You land on your feet when you jump."

"Other people can do that."

"Not from a fifty foot buildin'."

"It wasn't a real building; it was only simulated in the Danger Room."

"It doesn't matter. Have you never noticed how you move?"

"No, but according to you, I'm apparently not very stealthy."

"No, you're just noisy."

"Thanks," I said again sarcastically.

"It's true. You're good, just too loud sometimes. Once you learn how to move without makin' a sound, you'll be doin' good."

"So what you're saying is that I 'move' better than most people?" I said unbelievingly.

"You land on your _feet_ when you jump from a _fifty foot buildin'_."

"Yeah, I'm real tough beans," I said dryly.

"How many people have you seen do that?"

"One."

"Who?"

"Catwoman." I smiled at him.

He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his brow. "Real people, darlin'."

"Okay, so…no one, personally. Why is that a big deal?"

"There's a reason why only cats can do it. No one else has that kind of balance. Even your bones move differently."

"That's because my shoulders and knees are double jointed. I told you that."

"When?"

"When we were doing a training session one day. I remember because when I told you, you gave me that blinking stare and asked why I was telling you that, because there was nothing useful about that piece of information, and wanted to know how I would ever use that in real life. Then you made me run five laps around the gym."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"How would you use that in real life?"

"I don't know, I just thought that maybe that's why I moved so well or something. I mean, I took gymnastics and some ballet when I was younger and I was pretty good at it."

He shook his head. "You're a mutant; that's why you were good at it."

"What does being a mutant have to do with my agility?"

"You're like a cat."

"Great," I said dryly.

"Why are you upset about that?"

"If I'm like a cat, what's my codename going to be? Catwoman is already taken."

"Yeah, well, you'd be Catgirl, so it doesn't really matter."

I smiled. "I'm eighteen, that technically makes me a woman," I said. "Seriously though, what codename would I use?"

"Why do you need one, 'cause it sure ain't gonna' be to fight with the X-Men."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I said. It's dangerous and you ain't gonna' be any part of it."

"I don't _want_ to be part of it, I just want a name."

"Like what?"

"Dude, I don't know. Just something that makes me sound cool."

"You need therapy."

"I _had_ therapy; my doctor sent me out here with you bunch of freaks."

"Maybe you need a new doctor."

"Maybe."

"You wanna' get up and get something to eat now?"

"Yeah, let me get cleaned up first and then we can go."

* * *

"I'm sick now; I ate too much," I said, pushing away my plate.

Logan laughed at me. "You barely ate anything."

I sat back and swung my legs onto the seat, stretching them out in my booth. "No, I just ate less that you, you pig. I ate a whole plate of barbeque ribs; that's more than I've had in a while."

"Good though, wasn't it?"

He had the slightest smirk on his face and I couldn't help from smiling. "Yeah, it was."

"Worth givin' up your diet for?"

"Oh yeah, well worth it."

He took a sip of his beer and let out a breath. "We gotta' go back sometime."

"I know."

"And you gotta' make a decision about-"

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "I know."

"I'm not tryin' to push you into stayin'. I want you to do what _you_ want. I don't want you doin' something just 'cause you're told to. If you wanna' go back to California, then do it. But if you wanna' stay here, then I want you to tell them that. Don't worry about what _they_ want, it's time you stopped thinkin' about them so much. You say you ain't close to 'em, you ain't connected with 'em, but you care a whole lot about what they tell you to do."

"I do what I'm told, I always have, that's a hard habit to break. I'm trying, I really am, and I think I've done really well. I'm incredibly proud of myself for _everything_ that I've done these last few months. I've grown a lot and for the most part, I don't worry about what others think of me anymore. I've learned a lot from you about being myself and I'm trying, but that's a lot for me to do in a short amount of time."

"Have you ever heard, Masterin' others is strength, masterin' yourself makes you fearless'?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Do you know what it means?"

"I think it means that being able to master others, to memorize them, learn their idiosyncrasies, know their strengths and weaknesses and know how to defeat them takes time and patients, making you strong. But to be able to master yourself, to be able to face everything you are, even all of the demons on the inside, makes you fearless because we're most afraid of ourselves and who and what we are. You have to learn to accept, control, restrain, and grow everything inside without judgment or fear."

He nodded. "Yeah. You know how to size up an opponent, pick up how he moves and works within a few seconds of fightin' 'em, don't you? But when it comes to you, you can't deal with who you are inside. It scares you."

I stared at him. "It doesn't scare you?" I asked, dropping my voice. "Knowing what you _want_ to do, what you _have_ done, knowing what you're _capable_ of doing? Does it never scare you to think about who you are when you go berserker? You can't be the same person. How do you learn to accept something you can't control? How am _I_ meant to control something I don't understand?"

"Practice and discipline."

"So you've mastered yourself, then?"

"No, but I know what I am."

"I know what I am, too, doesn't mean I have to like it."

"You have to-"

"Logan, I'm a teenager. Most teenagers get confused at times. We're all still trying to figure stuff out. I'm still trying to find who I am."

He swore. "I never understood that whole hippie crap about tryin' to find yourself. You _are_ you, what's to find?"

I gave him a small laugh and smiled at him. "Don't you remember what it was like to be a teenager?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Stupid question, you don't remember what it was like to be ninety. Anyway, teenagers are bombarded with all of this pressure to be this way, to act that way, to do one thing, to do another. In order to not get lost and caught up in all of the hype, we have to figure out what we think, and believe, and feel. We're creating a person, an adult, and it's not easy. Sometimes we feel the need to do what others tell us to in order to fit it. When you do what someone else tells you to do, you don't have enough time to figure out what you want, and it takes time to actually teach yourself to then go after it. Rather than getting frustrated at me for not making a quick decision, but proud of me for being here. Be proud that I'm actually having trouble making the decision, because that means I'm thinking about it instead of just doing exactly what I'm told. You've changed me completely. When I left home to find you, I had never done anything my parents hadn't approved of. And I didn't even know you then. You're why I'm here and you're why I'm even thinking for myself. So just be proud of that, not upset."

"I'm not upset darlin', I just don't wanna' see you carin' about what other people think of you, or doin' what they want you to, 'cause you're find just how you are."

I smiled at him. "You only think that because I'm just like you."

He gave me a small smirk. "Maybe."

"Asinus asinorum in saecula saeculorum."

He paused his beer bottle just inches from his mouth and quirked his eyebrow at me. "Excuse me?"

"It loosely means, The greatest jackass in eternity. It's Latin."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "You gotta' stop hangin' out with Hank; he's startin' to rub off on you, kid."

"Is that really so bad?"

"Yeah. Before I know it, you're gonna' be turnin' blue and growin' fur."

"You don't think I'd look good being blue and furry?"

"You'd be beautiful baby, as always," he said, finally taking a sip of his beer and winked at me. "You ready to go home yet?"

I looked around at the small, quiet, nearly empty diner. I let out a sigh. Was I ready? No. Was it time?

"Yeah, let's go."

Sometimes we have to do things because it's what's right, not because we want to. That was definitely one of those times.

* * *

"Jayden, where have you been? We've been worried sick about you!"

My heart stopped beating for a few seconds. I was standing in the Professor's office that evening. And I wasn't there by myself. The Professor was there. So was Logan. And so were my parents.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, slightly dumbfounded by their appearance at the school.

"After our phone call with you last week, your father and I talked it over and thought it would be best to come talk to you sensibly, face to fact," my mother said. "But you weren't here when we got here."

I plopped down in one of the many chairs in Xavier's office. Logan stood still and strong beside me. I had an overwhelming urge to reach up and grab his hand and hold it tight. "Talk sensibly about what?"

"Professor Xavier, do you mind if my husband and I talk candidly with our daughter in front of you?" she asked. I could feel a growl coming from Logan when she said 'our daughter'.

"I don't believe so, go ahead," the Professor said timidly.

"Jayden, your father and I are concerned about you."  
"Why?"

"Look at you, sweetie. You look like a delinquent."

"I'm wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a motorcycle jacket. How do I look like a delinquent?"

"It's the leather. Why do you need a motorcycle jackets?" my father asked.

"Because it fits well and it's comfortable. It was a gift; I like it. Besides, I think that since the seventies, more than 'delinquents' wear leather. Certainly you didn't come all the way out here to talk to me about that, though?"

"No, to be quite honest, your father and I are worried about how you spend your time here. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"No ma'am, I don't. Unless you're worried about how much time I spend in the lab with Dr. McCoy?"

"No Jayden, that's not what I'm talking about."

"What then?"

"We're concerned about your relationship with your teacher, Mr. Logan. We're not convinced it's entirely…healthy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Logan and I both asked at the same time.

"Whenever we call, it seems that you're always with him. Then your father and I were discussing the visit that Mr. Summers paid us when he invited you to stay here."

"What does that have to do with anything? You think I spend too much time with Scott now, too?"

"No, Mr. Summers mentioned that all of the staff knew about your invitation to stay here, but he said it was one teacher's idea in particular. Mr. Logan's. We were just concerned and slightly curious as to why that is?"

"Because I'm his…" I stopped, trying to push the last few words from my mouth. _Daughter_, I thought, _I'm his daughter_.

"She reminds me of my daughter," Logan said. Everyone's eyes flew straight to him. "I had a daughter when I lived in Canada. I didn't get to see her grow up. She was adopted when she was little and raised with a family I never knew. Jayden reminds me of her, and yeah, I spend a lot of time with her, 'cause I'm tryin' to make it up to my own kid. I know it doesn't work like that, but that's all there is to it. When Xavier told the staff about her, I suggested she come live here because I knew if she were my kid, I would want her to get the help she needed. And that's what she got. That's what she's doin' here, and honestly, I think she needs a little more time here. She's doin' great and she's happy. I think more time'll do her good."

"Are you a doctor, Mr. Logan?" my mother asked.

"No."

"Then it's merely your own personal opinion, not a medical one."

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, I'm sorry sir, about your daughter and ours, but Jayden's not staying here any longer. She's going to be going home with us and that's _our _opinion, the only one that counts, and it's not changing."

"The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions," I said.

"I beg your pardon?" my mother said.

"It's a quote from James Russell Lowell; he was a poet and a diplomat in the eighteen hundreds. It means that dead people _can't_ change their opinions, and the ones who can, but chose not to out of their own pride are foolish."

"You _really_ ain't allowed to hang around with Hank anymore," Logan muttered to me."

"Shut up," I muttered back. The point I'm trying to get at," I said, addressing my parents, "is that it's not right to just pull me out of here because of some little concern like that. I mean, just _think_ about it."

"We have, and we agree that you've changed a lot over the past year and we agree that the school hasn't helped to fix those changes. I apologize Professor Xavier, my husband and I think your school is wonderful and that you do a lot of great work with it. However, we feel that if anything, being here has only made Jayden worse. She's been arguing with us about her future, acting out of character, her friends at home say she hasn't written or called them once since being here. We fear that maybe we've become to lenient with her since her little…mishap last year. We really appreciate all that you've done for us, sir, but I think it would be best if she just left now."

"I understand your concern, but perhaps Jayden would like to share her opinion on the matter?" Xavier said, looking at me.

"Sir, this conversation is between you and my mother now; I've not been brought into it yet, it's not my place to comment."

Logan swore. "I think Chuck was invitin' you, kid." I looked up at him. I must have looked terrified, because his hard expression softened when he looked down at me. "Go on, darlin'."

I took a deep breath and let it out. "Yes, I have changed a lot over the past year, but coming here wasn't meant to 'fix me', because there's nothing to fix. People change, kids grow up, and that's what I'm doing. I'm not acting out of character; this is who I am and who I've always been. And no, I haven't written or called my friends at home because they're not my friends. I don't like them, I never have, but I hung out with them because you wanted me to. I've _never_ gotten along with them. As a matter of a fact, when we were little and in the Girl Scouts together, I punched Heather Woods and knocked her two front teeth out. That's why she has to wear those fake ones. No one ever said anything because you were such a big part of the town; they thought you'd get mad and screw them over somehow. And my 'little mishap' wasn't a mishap. I ran away. Let's call it what it is."

"Honey, this is what we're talking about; you never acted like this before you left home."

"No, it's what _you're_ talking about, because daddy's not talking, you're talking _for_ him. I never acted like this at home because I was terrified that you would get mad at me and want to get rid of me."

"Your father and I discussed this at home and he agrees with me. How could you think we would want to get rid of you? You're our daughter."

"That time I called home from Canada to talk to you, I asked you to do one thing for me. I asked you to believe what I was telling you because you were my mother, and do you remember what you said? You said; 'I can't do that; I'm not your _real_ mother.' _That's_ how I can think you would want to get rid of me."

"You always bring up Canada. That's when all of this trouble began; when you went to go live with some horrible, undoubtedly dangerous, _man_."

"He wasn't some man, he was my father!" I yelled.

"What?" my mother asked slightly shocked.

"He was my _real_ father. And he cared more about me than you. He didn't try to plan out my life, or tell me what to do. He listened to me and let me do what I wanted. He wasn't some random guy off the street; he was my father and the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Why didn't you tell us, honey?" my dad asked. "We would have taken you to meet him; you didn't have to run away."

"No we wouldn't have," my mother snapped. "How do you know that he was your father? Did he prove it to you? And obviously he doesn't care too much about you; he hasn't visited, called or written you since then. Unless he did and you lied to us about that as well?"

"Logan, can you leave so I can speak to my parents?" He looked down at me. "I'll be fine. Just…let _me_ talk to them."

"Alright, if you need me, come get me."

I nodded as our eyes locked. "Thank you," I said quietly.

I wasn't thanking him for offering to stay with me, or saying that if I needed him, I could go get him. I was thanking him for not blowing up at my parents. I was thanking him for not telling them that _he_ was actually my father, the man whom they were insulting in front of him. I was thanking him for letting me talk, to say what I needed to say. I was thanking him for just being there for me. And he knew that.

"Anytime darlin'," he whispered down to me.

As he walked from the room, closing the door as he left, I wanted nothing more than to tell him to stop, to stay, to be my strength for me. But I couldn't. It was time I stood up for myself. It still didn't help how scared I was.

Without Logan, I was weak.

* * *

"Thought I'd find you here," I said to Logan. He turned around and looked at me. He spared me a small smile at the familiarity of his words being said back to him.

"How'd the meetin' go?" he asked as I joined him on the bench where he was sitting. We were out in Storm's garden on top of the school again. And like the night before, the sun was hanging just over the wood, stretched out behind the school.

"I came here to tell you bye."

He exhaled the smoke from his cigar. "That well, huh?" He dropped the cigar on the ground and stomped it out with the heel of his boot. He looked at the sky. "If that's what you want, and I'm trustin' it is, then alright." He ran his hand through the back of his hair. "Where you are ain't gonna' change us, kid. No matter where you're at, you're still mine, you always will be. And I'm always gonna' take care of you, alright? No matter what. I just found you, I ain't gonna' lose you again. But I want you to be happy and if goin' to school now is what's gonna' make you happy, and they can give that to you, then that's what I want for you." He let out a breath. "I remember parts of bein' with Mariko, just little things every now and then, but I remember when she died. I know it hurt losin' her, and when I lost Jean…it was the same. That was something I understood. But losin' the baby, that was new to me. I wanted it, yeah, but I'd never been a father before then and I didn't get it." He looked over at me. "I do now. I want you to be taken care of and happy. And if they can give that to you there, then that's what I want for you."

I smiled at him as I wiped a tear from my cheek. "Logan, I love you."

"I love you too, baby."

"That's why I'm not leaving."

He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'm sorry; I just really needed to hear you say that. But I told them that I was going to stay here. They're going to send the rest of my stuff from home later this week."

"What about school, I thought they weren't gonna' pay for you to go up here?"

"They're not. I'm going to put it off for another year, save some money from working here, maybe get a student loan or something and try to go next year."

"You sure?" I nodded. "Good," he said, and pulled me to him. "You did good."

I wrapped my arms around his torso and fell into the feeling of his around me. He kissed the top of my head. "They can't take you away from me," I mumbled. "I need you, they can't take you away."

When I was with Logan, I was strong.


	8. Weight of The World

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything except a bottle of Asprin, and that is some good stuff. Still sick, so I didn't get out as much as I wanted to today, but I hope ya'll like what I typed out. Now I'm going to go crash in bed. Comments are adored and welcomed, as are freshly baked cookies. Much love, please enjoy!

* * *

"Are you ready yet?" Logan asked for the third time in ten minutes.

I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror and let out a sigh. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Good. I wanna' get down there so I can leave early. I don't wanna' spend all night listenin' to some bad music and watchin' kids do something that somehow passes for dancin' these days."

I laughed as I opened the bathroom door and joined him in my room. "Wow, you sound really old."

It was the last Saturday in May. The night of the End of the School Year dance. Like the rest of the staff, Logan had to go as a chaperone. I was going, but didn't have any responsibilities, so unlike Logan, I was actually looking forward to it. Having gone to an all girls school my whole life, it was my first dance.

"I _am_ old."

I slipped on the pair of flat gold sandals by my bed. "Well, you look pretty spiffy. Even for an old guy."

He gave me a small smirk. "Thanks darlin'. But uh, you don't actually think you're goin' anywhere in that dress, do you?"

"No, I'm staying at home," I said with a wink.

"Are you wearin' something over it?"

"No."

My dress wan an emerald green, floor length, Grecian style. It was cut pretty low in the front and had a gold rope empire waist detail right under the bust. I had curled my hair and pulled the front back loosely. The dress had actually been the one I had bought for the prom I was meant to go to the year before, but never went. But I discovered that after working out, my body had changed and the dress fit me differently. Personally, I thought it fit much better.

There was a light knock on my open door and I turned to see Scoot standing in the doorway, smiling. I smiled back at him. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said as a small blush crept across my cheeks while I continued to smile.

"Why are you here?" Logan asked Scott, clearly biting back a growl.

He didn't answer as someone could be heard coming down the hall. "Logan, I've been lookin' all over for you," Rogue said, joining Scott in my doorway. "Wow Jayden, you look beautiful."

"Thanks," I said, my enthusiasm failing. I forced a small smile at her. "You too."

"Thank you. Mind if I snatch Logan from you? I don't have a date tonight and thought he might go as mine for a few hours. Unless you were gonna' go together?"

"No, Scott and I are going together," I said.

"What?" Logan swore. "No, you ain't goin' with him."

"Yeah I am. He asked me to like, three weeks ago."

Logan turned towards me. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a serious look. "No."

"Dude, calm down, it's not a real date."

"Fine," he said, staring me right in the eye. "But I'm keepin' an eye on both of you. You make one move outta' line Summers, and you'll be tastin' adamantium six different ways. Forget rippin' your arms off, I'll move straight to killin' you. You got it?"

I saw Scott smile out of the corner of my eye. "Yeah Logan, I got it. Ready to go now Jayden?"

I gave Logan another small smirk. "Yeah, let's go."

The dance was being held in the school's ballroom, which was rarely used except for dances. I had been in the ballroom quite a bit with Hank, though. He had been trying to teach me how to dance 'properly'. I was learning how to do the Waltz, Salsa, and we were working on Salsa ballroom. But every time, out of every lesson, we had always been alone. I had never even seen anyone else in there. As far as I knew, the students didn't even know it existed. But when I walked into the ballroom that night, I was amazed by all the students filling the room, dancing, talking, eating, sitting. There were students everywhere and my quiet little meeting place to go and get away from everyone else was being ruined by all of the noise and people.

When I had first arrived at the school, Scott had told me that eventually I would get used to the noise and that after a while, I would stop noticing it. He had been wrong on both accounts. Although I had come to expect the noise of nearly two hundred students talking all at once, I was far from 'used' to it. And since my senses had started growing, I was miles from not being able to notice it. There was some loud, undistinguishable song playing through the speakers littered throughout the room and I began to understand why Logan had wanted to get it over with.

"Why Jayden, you look absolutely beautiful," Hank said as Scott and I joined him along with the Professor, Ororo and Bobby. Logan and Marie were right behind us.

I smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you Hank."

"You remind me of Helen of Troy. A beauty that wars were fought over. Very appropriate for you, I must say."

"I do believe you're my favorite person today, Mr. McCoy," I said as the music switched to something slower, quieter, relieving me of my headache and I let out a sigh of relief at the change.

"Would you care to join me for a dance?"

I smiled at him once again and offered him my hand. "Absolutely."

He walked me out onto the dance floor and slowly we began to dance. "Have you spoken to your parents since their visit?" he asked.

"Once. I called to tell them that all of my stuff from home had made it here safely, but we didn't really…talk."

"May I ask why?"

"Yes you may."

"Why?"

"Because it's difficult. I told them about my father, and that that's why I was staying with him in Canada, and they think I'm terrible for lying to them about it. Not to mention the fact that they think I'm some wild, rebellious Hell child since moving here. I think they might need some time to get used to everything before we really talk again."

"I just don't want you to write them off completely."

"I'm not. I just think we all need some time to adjust."

"Speaking of adjusting, how did Logan take the news that your date for this evening was a certain Scott Summers?"

I laughed. "Not very well. He reacted to it as if I were going with a hardened criminal. It was terrible."

"And what was your reaction when you found out that his date was Rogue?"

The smile slid from my face. "To each their own," I said. "I don't suppose I really expected him to hang out with me the whole time. It's just when he's with her, it's like he forgets about me."

"Amare et sapere vix deo condeditur."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm learning Latin; it doesn't mean I understand everything you say just yet."

He smiled at me. "It means, Even a God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time."

"Why do you always have to pull out the deep quotes when I'm trying to sulk? Can't you just let me be mad sometimes?"

"No."

I lay my head on his shoulder. "Kids are supposed to get angry with their parents, though, aren't they? Logan and I are a little different, but I'm still allowed to be mad, right? It's my responsibility as a teenager to be mad at him."

He gave a good chuckle and I felt it roll through him. "You're far too beautiful to be angry."

"Like I said earlier; you are by far my favorite person today."

"Ah, even more than Scott?"

I took my head from his shoulder and looked at him. He was smiling, showing his white fangs. "Does _everyone_ know that I have a crush on him?" I hissed quietly.

"Everyone but him, I believe."

I let out a sigh. "I hope it stays that way."

He furrowed his blue brow at me. "And why is that?"

"Because in a few months, I'll be over it and there's no point in him knowing that I ever liked him in that way. It'll just make it awkward for later."

"Why do you have to get over it?"

I gave him a confused look. "Because it's just a crush, it's pointless."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is."

"If he were to perhaps return your feelings, would you still consider it pointless?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm simply making conversation."

"No, making conversation is, Hi, how are you, what are your plans for the summer? Asking me about if I would consider it pointless if he felt the same as me is something else completely. So what are you talking about?"

"Scott changed quite a bit when Jean died. He hasn't confided anything in me, but I knew he's very different around you. He seems to be…genuinely happy when you're around."

"Yeah, well, he says the same about you."

"I do enjoy your company, yes, and I think you're a good friend, but that's all. I told you that Scott hasn't confided his feelings in me, and I'm not sure that he would, I'm just telling you that there is no point for you to be scared of how you feel about someone. You never know what that person may feel about you."

"Hank, I'm a _kid_, it doesn't work like that at my age."

"You are much older than your age. One only has to look into your eyes to see your old soul." I smiled at him. "Besides, Juliet was only fifteen when she found love in Romeo."

"Yes, but Romeo was fifteen, too. Not to mention _fictional_," I said. "And didn't they both end up killing themselves anyway?"

He smiled down at me. "So perhaps not the best examples, but I just don't want you to give up at such a young age."

"I'm not giving up; just being reasonable."

"Are you? Or are you still so worried of getting close to anyone that even a simple crush scares you?"

"I'm close to you, aren't I?"

"I'm not talking physically, I'm talking emotionally."

"So am I. You have no idea how much it scares me that I'm close to you, or Scott…and especially Logan. I'm not used to letting my guard down and showing people who I am. Relationships with people don't scare me; they _terrify_ me. But I'm here. I'm talking to you about how I feel. I'm slowly working it out. So I'd say it's a bit of both; fear and reason."

"There is nothing to fear but fear itself."

I smiled. "Finally a quote I recognize."

"It's also very true."

"Truth doesn't make an action easier," I said as the music changed to a much faster song. We both stopped dancing and separated. I smiled at him. "It's scary and not easy, but being friends with you is well worth it."

He bent down and kissed me on top of my head. "And I want you to know that I don't take that for granted. You're a special person Jayden, and you're meant for great things."

I hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Hank."

The rest of the night wasn't quite what I had been expecting. Although I'm not quite sure _what_ I was expecting. It was basically how Logan had explained it; loud music and a bunch of kids doing something that somehow was supposed to be dancing. Though I wasn't sure how it was classified as such.

I mostly sat with the Professor and talked while drinking some overly sugared punch. Hank and I danced a few times, and Scott and I danced twice. Soon the night began to wan, and I realized that I hadn't spoken to Logan since we had left my room. Rogue seemed to be attached to him, in an attempt to make Bobby jealous. Or at least that's what everyone else thought. I seemed to be the only one who knew that what she was doing had nothing to do with Bobby. And Logan's reactions to her certainly had nothing to do with him. Seeing them together made me feel emotions I didn't quite understand. And I hated it.

"Hey Scott, one last dance before I call it quits and go to bed?"

He smiled at me and nodded his head. "I would love to." We walked to the dance floor and began dancing. I could hear my heart rate speed up with his touch and fought to keep it in check. "So, have you had a good time tonight?"

"Yeah, it was nice. A little loud, but nice."

He laughed. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. Other than that, it's been fun."

"Good, I'm glad."

"So, are you going to miss teaching or are you going to enjoy your time off?"

"I'm looking forward to some time off. I love teaching and I love the kids, but it's time for a break. How about you?"

"I never really taught. I just handed Hank whatever he needed and walked around making sure the students were doing everything properly."

"You still do something," he said. "What about the summer, what do you have planned?"

"Nothing, actually, which is quite nice. My parents usually planned something stupid for me to do with my time during the summer."

"Really? Like what?"

"They volunteered me at a cheerleading camp one year. And I _hate_ cheerleaders, but they were deadest on my doing _something_ involving them. It was terrible."

"It sounds like it. Did you ever cheerlead?"

"No, thank goodness. My parents…well, my mother really, wanted me to be one, but that was one thing I was always very adamant about not doing."

"I bet you would have been good at it. I've seen you in the gym and the Danger Room; you're good at physical stuff."

I blushed. "Thank you."

"Mind if I cut in?"

I looked over my shoulder to see Logan standing behind me. "She's all yours," Scott said. He gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight Jayden."

"Night Scott," I mumbled, the flush in my cheeks burning hotter.

"He keep his hands to himself?" Logan asked taking Scott's spot in dancing with me.

"Of course," I said. "But I thought you didn't dance?"

"Well, I figured if you could throw everything away to be here with me, I might be able to suck up my pride for a few minutes."

I smiled at him. "Thank you, that really means a lot to me."

"You deserve it, darlin'." I rested my head on his shoulder and let out a sigh. "You know I'm tryin' right?" he whispered in my ear. "You know I wanna' make you happy here?"

I looked back up at him and nodded my head. "Yeah, I know. And I _am_ happy here. I just need you, that's all, and I'm happy."

He stared down into my eyes. "Good."

"Are you?"

He slowly nodded at me. "Yeah baby, I am."

I smiled at him. "Good," I said, just as my vision began to shift. Everything went blank, and when it came back into focus, I was no longer in the school's ballroom, I was outside. On a street. In the dark.

There was a dim street lamp above me and a few up and down the small street where I was standing.

I stood there alone.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Headlights.

I could see a bus driving towards me. It drove closer, and I saw that it was a school bus.

It drove closer, and I saw that it was full of children.

It drove closer and I saw it explode, bursting into flames.

I heard the children scream.

I smelled them burning, trapped inside.

I watched the flames burn bright and another explosion occur as the fire reached the gas tank.

I heard the screams slowly die along with the children to whom they belonged.

I saw a man calmly walk from behind the bus. By the light of the fire, I could see a hint of a smile on his lips. I watched him walk down the street until the darkness engulfed him and I could no longer see him.

I stood there alone. Watching the bus burn.

My sight shifted. Everything went blurry and when everything slid back into view, I was back in the ballroom.

"You alright?" Logan asked, grabbing me and holding me up just as my knees were about to go out.

"The kids died, he killed the kids. He burned them, all of them," I mumbled, still struggling to stay standing. The images were still playing in my mind, not letting go.

"What are you talkin' about? What'd you see?"

"There's a school buss full of kids; he's going to kill them. You have to stop him; you can't let him kill them."

"Shh," he said. "_Who_ kills them?"

"I don't know!" I yelled, tears running furiously down my cheeks. "But you have to stop him!"

"Where is it?"

"I don't know," I said, beginning to panic. "I don't know. No, no, no, you have to find them."

"Listen; just calm down and concentrate, okay?"

I nodded my head and tried to calm my breathing. I closed my eyes and tried to pull out something that could help me. Images from the vision flew past my mind. They stopped on one of the bus. The elementary school name was written on the side, along with the city. I searched my brain for geography, trying to place it as exact as possible. I opened my eyes.

"Philadelphia, Pennsylvania," I said. "You have to hurry, you have to stop him."

I was doing my best to remain calm, but the fear I felt from all of the dying children was burning side me and I was beginning to feel hysterical. Tears ran down my cheeks at a manic pace. My breathing was hard, feeling as if something were restricting my lungs. My entire body shook and I fought to keep standing. Panic was taking over me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Logan stared down at me, a hand on my arm and the other on my hip, trying to keep me steady. I knew he could see the terror shining in my eyes, smell it coming off me like waves. "You have to try to tell me what happened," he said just as Scott came running back up to us.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's going to be a bus full of kids on a street called Worsher Street in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. There's a man who's going to blow it up. I don't know how, I don't know why, I don't know if he's a mutant, I don't know. But you have to stop him," I tried to explain as calmly as my body would allow.

"How much time do we have?" Scott asked.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I don't know," I said. "It's dark, that's all I see. I don't know what time it's supposed to happen, I just know it hasn't yet." I opened my eyes and looked at the two of them. "You have to stop it."

"I'm getting Rogue, Bobby and Storm, then going to hanger and getting the jet ready. Logan, you make sure she's going to be okay, then suit up and meet us by the Blackbird. I'm going to see if I can locate Worsher Street, but I can't, are you up to letting Xavier read your mind, Jayden?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah."

"Okay. Logan, we're leaving in fifteen minutes," he said, walking away.

"What do you wanna' do darlin'? You want me to take you back to your room?"

I shook my head. "Take me to Hank. You need to hurry as fast as you can."

Logan ushered me to where Hank and the Professor were sitting and explained what was going on. I couldn't talk. I had told Logan and Scott everything I knew, I didn't have to hold it together anymore.

I couldn't stop crying.

I couldn't stop shaking.

I couldn't breathe.

Hank thought it best if I went down to the medical lab and take something to calm my nerves, and to get away from all of the noise. The Professor was the only adult left to chaperone, and decided to end the dance and hour early. I heard the students complaining as Hank helped me out of the room as we made our way down to the lab.

"How do you feel?" he asked as we both sat in his office. He had just given me some type of medicine to calm me down.

"Terrible," I admitted, my voice cracking from where I had cried and sobbed so violently.

"Still?"

"I still feel it all."

"What do you feel?"

"Their fear. Their pain. I still see the bus going up in flames. I still hear them scream. I can _smell_ and _taste_ them burning. And I can feel it all in my gut, like a knot of pain that won't let up… And all of it makes me want to vomit." I had changed from my dress into a pair of the school's sweatpants and a T-shirt. When I couldn't stop shivering, I put on one of their zip up sweatshirts. I sat in a chair in front of Hank's desk, of which he was sitting behind. I was drained and started to feel the effects of his medicine. All I could do was curly up and hug myself, and try not to go insane over everything I still felt in my head. "My body's fine, but I still feel it."

"You probably will for a while. Something like that's not likely to leave your mind easily. You just have to be thankful that you saw it _before_ it happened and hope that the team will be able to help."

"Why aren't you an X-Man?" I asked, resting my head on my knees and looking at him.

"I used to be, but I decided that the violence of it all wasn't for me. I still wanted to help people though, so I left to become a doctor."

"Was it hard for you to hurt people, even if you knew what they had done was bad?"

"Quite the opposite, actually. I enjoyed it far too much. And I was good at it, too. There is a reason for why I'm called 'Beast' you know?" he said with a sad smile.

"I want to be part of the team," I said.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I can't see these terrible things and then sit back and let someone else handle it. I have a gift, I _see_ things, but I can't stop them. I just have to trust that everyone else can. I can't do that, though. I have to help, too."

"I know that being part of the team, being an X-Man, must seem perfect if you're willing to sacrifice yourself in order to help save others, innocents, but I assure you it's not quite as it seems. You would make an excellent part of the team; the way in which you fight is amazing. You're so much like Logan in your power and drive-"

"But I can control myself. He goes berserker, I don't."

"You have to understand something, though. When Logan is in his berserker rage, he's capable of fighting, but recognizing his friends so that he doesn't injure them. But when he comes out of it, he doesn't remember it perfectly. It takes the sting off his actions. He doesn't have to feel what he's doing. In a way, he's very blessed. The rest of us who do, or have, tried to do the right thing by fighting others, have to live with the realities of what we do. You have to be prepared to accept that you may have to live with your own nightmares. Taking someone's life, no matter what they've done, whether they deserve it or not, is not something one can live with easily."

"I know that, but if doing that is going to save two or twenty people, then I think I can live with the nightmares. I already do, they're just not mine."

"Then know that being yours will make a great deal of difference, because you are having to relive your own pain, not someone else's. Sometimes things don't always go as you plan. You may want to help, but only end up hurting," he said. "When I was part of the team, I was still young, still had a lot to learn. Charles sent us on a mission, Scott and me, to find two small time criminals. They had robbed a convenience store and we were just meant to capture them and call the police. It turns out that they had done more than just robbed a store. They had a girl tied up in a room. She was four. Scott was going to hit each of the men with a blast just strong enough to knock them out. He hit the first man and he went down. The second man had a gun and tried to shoot me, but I saw it and ducked. Scott had a free shot and got him down, too. But when I went to check on the girl, I realized that she had been directly behind me when I had dodged the man's shot, and instead of hitting me, the bullet had gone through the girl's chest and she was going to die. Scott tried to call an ambulance, but she didn't make it. I held her while she was dying; I watched her gasp for breath. I felt her go cold as her blood poured from her chest and back, where the bullet had exited her body. Blood was dripping from her mouth, when she raised up her little hand to my cheek and told me that when she got to Heaven, she was going to ask if she could be an angel. To watch over me. Then she died. We had only meant to help, but if I had just been more thoughtful, more aware, she wouldn't have died. But she did. It was my fault, but she did. And I took my anger out of the man who had shot her. I pounced on him, beating him, breaking bones, and ribs, one of which punctured his lungs. But I continued until all breath had gone from him and I was positive he was dead. I took his life because I was angry with myself for making a mistake and blamed it on him. There's not a night I go to bed and close my eyes without seeing that little girl."

I sat quietly, pretending to absorb the story, but the truth was, I had already seen it. Not too long after becoming friends with him. I had seen it one night while I slept. I didn't want to tell him, but I too had a hard time going to sleep without seeing her lifeless body as well. But she was just one of many that I saw.

* * *

I couldn't sleep that night. I wanted to, I was tired, but I just couldn't fall to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the school bus in flames, and heard the kids screaming. At ten after twelve in the morning, the team hadn't made it back yet, and I decided I couldn't stay in bed any longer. I grabbed one of the school's blankets from my closet and quietly made my way down the hall. As I was walking, I finally understood what Logan had been trying to tell me earlier that month about being too loud. As I walked from the staff hall onto the main hall, and down the main staircase, I didn't hear myself move. I didn't make _one_ sound. Because Logan had taught me how to move, but it hadn't been until then that I fully understood when he had been trying to teach me. 

I made my way further down the school and I didn't stop until I was right outside of the jet's hanger. Then I wrapped myself in my blanket and sat down against the wall.

Then I waited.

I kept checking my watch and at just a few minutes until one, the hanger opened up and the team slowly came walking out.

Storm first. I wasn't sure if she even saw me.

Then Rogue and Bobby. They looked at me, gave me small, tired smiles and continued down the hall.

Then Scott, with Logan right behind him. He wasn't in his uniform. He was wearing sweatpants and a wife-beater. They both looked at me.

"I got it," Logan said. Scott nodded at him and he left. He came and stood beside me. He looked down at me and I could see the look in his eyes.

I looked up at him and shook my head. "Don't," I said. "Just…don't say it."

"Darlin', we tried."

"No, no," I said, tears forming in my eyes. "Don't."

He slid down wall and sat beside me. "We _tried_," he said, pulling me to him. "I made Summers drop me off and let me go by myself. When I got there, I didn't see anything. So I waited. I never saw him, I didn't hear him, I just remember seein' the empty street one second and comin' back and seein' the school bus on fire. I couldn't do anything, 'cause he got me before he got them, and I was nothing but bone and metal and tissue. My eyes had just grown back, my lungs hadn't, my muscles weren't workin' yet. There was nothing I could do. I had told Summers that I would contact 'em in the jet if I needed help, but when he set me on fire, he burnt the com-link in my ear. I'm sorry." I broke down sobbing in his arms. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Why?" I cried into his chest. "Why do people have to be like that? Why do they have to be so sick? Why did they have to hurt those kids?"

He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. "I don't know, I don't know." I clung to his shirt, shaking and crying violently into his chest while he held me in his arms. "Shh," he whispered. "It's gonna' be alright darlin', it's gonna' be alright."

"It's not fair! Why did they have to die?"

"I don't know."

"Why couldn't I stop it?"

He tightened his grip on me and he pulled me closer to him. "You did everything you could baby; sometimes we just can't do it. It's not your fault, we tried, that's all we could do."

"They hurt so much, though. They were in so much pain. And they were scared, they were _so_ scared."

"I know, but it's not your fault, you didn't do it, it's not your fault."

He held me while I cried, continuing to tell me that it wasn't my fault. But as I cried myself to sleep in his arms in the hall of the Blackbird's hanger, no words spoken by anyone could have convinced me otherwise.


	9. Falling

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, Fox, or the title of my story. I'm still sick and I'm just not getting out as much as I want, but I'm trying. Just bear with me, ya'll. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

"How are you feeling this morning, Jayden?" Hank asked as I stumbled into the kitchen at half past nine the next morning. He wasn't alone. All of the staff, aside from the Professor and Rogue was there as well.

"I'm doing alright. You?"

"I'm fine. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"What shall we make for today, then?"

"I don't want to make anything; I just want some coffee and a doughnut." Everyone looked at me. "Are they all gone?"

"No, there's still quite a few left."

"Then why is everyone looking at me like that. Am I not allowed to eat doughnuts, or something?"

"No, you're more than welcome to; it's just a little surprising as you don't eat them for breakfast anymore."

"Maybe I'm just tired of eating all that other crap," I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. "Besides, it's pointless."

"What do you mean?" Hank asked.

"I know what she means. Sit down, eat a doughnut, and he happy, kid. Tomorrow you can go back to that healthy junk," Logan said.

"No. What's the point of me eating that way?"

"You said it yourself; so you can train better."

"Well what's the point of training? I'm not doing anything with it."

"This better not be goin' where I think it is; we already talked about this, and you said you didn't wanna' do that."

"I didn't. Not until yesterday. Not until last night."

"No," he said simply. "You wanna' quit workin' out and trainin', then you're more than welcome to it. But you ain't gonna' be part of the X-Men."

"Why?"

"Because it dangerous."

"You do it."

"And I can't die, so it doesn't matter what I do, does it? Besides, when is me doin' something any reason for you to start doin' it?"

"You know what they say; like father like daughter."

"I don't care, you're not doin' it."

"I think it might be a good idea," Scott said, folding up the newspaper he had been reading and looked up at me.

"Of course you do," Logan.

"Think about it; she has better hand to hand combat skills than any of the students here, and she's only been training for how long? Five months, tops? She's picked up fighting faster than anyone I've ever seen, and I used to teach Logan's class before he started teaching it. If you gave her a year to train, I bet she would be better than anyone else on the team."

"Go back to readin' the funnies, Slim, she ain't gonna' do it."

"Technically I'm an adult-"

"So you keep sayin'," he mumbled.

I shot him a look. "I'm an adult, and Scott's the leader, so this really has nothing to with you with, Logan. You have no say in it."

"Excuse me?"

"You have no say in it," I repeated.

"This is about last night, about those kids, and in a few days you'll be over it. You're not gonna' make a stupid decision over one thing that went wrong."

"This isn't a stupid decision and I'm not going to get over it in a few days. I _still_ have nightmares about the man you killed in Canada, and I didn't even see you do it. I _saw_ this. I _felt_ it. I still do. How am I supposed to get over that? I can't just sit back and watch other people get hurt, other kids die. If I can see it, why can't I help change it, too? You know, someone told me that I shouldn't be scared of failing, because failing shows that I've tried. I have to _try_."

He stared at me for a long moment; everyone else was quiet, waiting. Finally he let out a deep breath. "Fine. You train for a year, you work out, you prove to me this ain't a passin' thing, and next summer we'll see how badly you want it, alright? But you ain't gonna' use it as an excuse to not go to school. You want it, you gotta' learn how to do both, 'cause bein' part of the team ain't a job, you don't get paid for it. You got that?"

I nodded my head. "Okay, deal." I took a sip of my coffee. "And just so you know, my training won't get in the way of college. I'll be training through until next summer, then I'll start college _that_ fall."

"No," he said, "you're goin' _this_ fall. Hank got you in."

"What?" I asked surprised. I looked from Logan to Hank. They were both smiling at me. Well…Logan's was more of a smirk, really. "But I thought we talked about this earlier this month, Logan? I _can't_ go."

"Yeah you can," he said.

"No, I _can't_. I don't have the money – I just, I can't go," I said, looking down.

"I know, but someone else does"

I looked up at him. "I can't take Professor Xavier's money, I told you that. He's letting me live in his house for free and pays me for helping with classes. I'm not letting him pay for my college, too."

"He's not."

I looked around the room. "What are you talking about? Who else would pay for me to go?"

"Do you know a Dr. John Lewis?" Hank asked.

My mouth dropped open. "You're kidding me. _Dr. Lewis_ is paying for me to go to college?"

"Apparently he was very impressed with you when you visited him last year for a session with him. Charles called and explained to him your predicament and when he couldn't convince your parents that you should stay here longer, he felt quite badly and decided that he would help you to attend this year."

"I thought for sure that he would hate me. I gave him such a hard time during that sessions and I was only there for like, an hour and a half. I mean, I was really terrible. I was rude and sarcastic and a smart-aleck-"

"Yeah, what's new?" Logan asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Nothing, but at least I know where I got it from." I shook my head. "I can't believe this. Oh my word."

"Congratulations," Scott said, smiling at me.

"Thank you," I said, blushing.

"What's the congratulations for?" Rogue asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Jayden is going to be attending college this fall so that she can become a forensics scientist. She's just found out that she's gone," Hank explained.

"Oh, well congratulations then!" she said, smiling at me, then past me to Logan. He smiled back at her.

"Thanks," I said my enthusiasm not quite as high. "So where are the doughnuts?"

* * *

"Hey, I haven't seen you in a while, I thought I might have scared you off," Ben said.

I smiled at him. "No, everything's just been a little busy at school. Kids are going home, graduating, all sorts of stuff."

It was Monday morning and I had gone for a run after my morning meditation with Logan. There were no classes, since school was officially out for the summer and I had the rest of the morning to get a head start of my training. "I thought if anything I would have scared you from ever talking to me again."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you met my dad. Most people who meet him are scared."

"Yeah, he's a little uh…intimidating."

I smiled. "Just a little."

"Well, did you ever find out how long you're going to be staying here?"

"Yeah, I did. I'm going to be living here from now on, actually. I decided that the move would be good for me."

"Good, maybe we can go out sometime. You know…if you want?"

"I would have to talk to my dad about it first, but yeah, I'd love to."

"Oh, you…you have to ask him?"

"Well, I am living with him, so yeah, sort of."

"Is he going to threaten to rip my head off, or anything?"

I smiled. "I don't know. He told my last date that he would kill him if he made a move out of line, but he didn't much like him. Don't piss him off and stay in line and you might be okay."

He gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well that sounds promising."

"Yeah, he doesn't have great people skills."

"You would never know," he joked. "How long has he lived here? Did he ever live in California with you?"

"You remembered that I lived in California?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile.

I smiled back at him. "No, he never lived there with me. He lived in Canada until a few years ago. Then he moved here and started teaching."

"Do you get along with him?"

"Uh…for the most part, I guess, yeah. We argue a lot, but we tend to have a short rebound rate. So it's alright. I'm a lot like him, so I think that might have something to do with it."

He laughed. "Funny, you really don't strike me as the violent type," he joked.

"Looks _can_ be deceiving."

"What, you mean he's not really violent?"

"No, I was actually talking about me."

"Really? So should I be worried more about you or him?"

I smiled. "Just watch yourself and you won't have to worry about either of us."

"I'll do that."

"Look, I have to head back home, but maybe I can catch you here some other time?"

"Yeah, I'm here every morning. Usually between seven and nine or something."

"Alright, maybe I'll see you tomorrow or something."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Alright, bye," I said, starting to run back towards the school.

"Hey," he called out. I stopped and turned around. "What are you doing this Saturday?"

"I don't know. Nothing important, I don't think."

"Would you like to go get something to eat and go see a movie, or something?"

I smiled. "I'll have to check to make sure I'm free that night, and talk to my dad about it, but yeah; I'd love to."

"Okay, cool. Maybe I can catch you tomorrow and we can talk some more about it."

I kept smile. "Yeah, okay, bye."

"Bye."

* * *

"Are we doing anything this Saturday?" I asked Logan.

"I don't know. Why?" he asked.

I sat down in the chair beside him. He was in the library, flipping through a book on World War Two. "Because someone asked me to go somewhere with them on Saturday."

He looked up at me from his book with a cocked eyebrow. "Who?"

"That guy, Ben that I met running in the park."

"At least it's not summers," he muttered. "You can't go."

"Why? We're not doing anything that day."

"I'll think of something."

I rolled my eyes. "It's just dinner and _maybe_ a movie. I'll be back before midnight."

"_Midnight_?" He swore. "You'll be back before _nine_."

"What? That's ridiculous, no…eleven."

"Nine."

"Ten thirty." He stared at me. "Ten?"

He let out a deep breath. "I don't want you goin' anywhere with him."

"Why not? He's nice."

"No, he _seems_ nice, you don't know him."

"Okay, so he _seems_ nice. What's wrong?"

"I don't like him."

"You've only met him once."

"I still don't like him."

"What, are your Wolvie senses tingling?"

He stared at me. "Something like that, yeah."

"It's not marriage, it's just one date. It's not _that_ bad."

"I wanna' talk to him before you go out."

"No."

"Yeah."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll scare him away, that's why."

"If I scare him off, then he obviously doesn't deserve you."

"That's such messed up logic."

"I don't care. I'm gonna' talk to him before you go out."

"Fine, but don't pull the claws out on him, alright? He doesn't know that I'm a mutant, or that anyone else that lives here is either."

"You think I have to use my claws to scare people?"

I rolled my eyes again. "Just…_try_ to be civil, okay?"

"I'm lettin' you go out with him, ain't that enough?"

I offered him a small smile. "Yes and thank you." I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Love you furry-face."

He shook his head. "Right back at'cha, kid." I stood to leave. "Hey, you gonna' be up for a Danger Room session in a few hours?"

I smiled at him once again. "Absolutely."

"Alright, I'll see you in a few hours, then."

"Okay, see you then."

"You look happy," Hank said as I passed him in the hall on the way to my room. "Perhaps I should take up running again." I laughed. "May I inquire as to what's put you into such a good mood?"

"I'm going on a date Saturday."

"Whom with?"

"His name is Ben Kelly. I met him in the park when I was running earlier this month."

"Ah," he said. "I assume that Logan doesn't know about this yet?"

"Actually he does."

"Then I assumed wrong. And he gave you his consent?"

"He wants to talk to him first, I have to be home by ten, and he really doesn't like him, but yeah, basically."

"Amazing. With as protective as he is over you, I never thought he would allow it. Good for you."

"Thank you."

"Is he a nice boy?"

"He seems to be, yeah."

"Just remember; people aren't always as they seem."

"I know Hank; I do have an overly acute intuition. I usually know when people aren't what they say."

"Yes, but you're still learning how to use and control it, it _can_ fail you at times."

"I'll keep that in mind, I promise."

But Hank was right; sometimes our mutations fail us.

* * *

There was a trench, three foot wide, six foot deep. More than likely, there were at least five soldiers in it, waiting for me to cross so they could light me up like a Christmas tree. The only way I could get to the other side without having to go across them was a building.

Without making a sound, I climbed the fire ladder that led up the abandoned building. I reached the top and again, with no sound, I made it across the roof. I looked down. I saw the safe house. There were cars that were empty, but burning, and as far as I could see, there was no one standing between me and my objective. There was a ten foot drop to the ground, and I decided to take it. I had made higher ones; ten feet should be no problem. I took a running jump from five feet back, to give me some momentum. But as I fell, the ground rushed up to meet me faster than I had expected. I landed and felt pain for just a moment before everything went dark.

* * *

I blinked my eyes, trying to keep them open. I saw bright, fluorescent lights above me, and for once, I wished my eyesight hadn't been so strong.

"Well, it looks like the patient has finally woken," I heard Hank say before I saw his blue furry face looming over mine. "How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a ton of bricks."

"Carl Jung did once say that 'There is no coming to consciousness without pain'. Though I'm not sure that this is quite what he was referring to."

"What happened?"

"You fell in the Danger Room," I heard Logan say, though I couldn't see him.

"From a ten foot _fake_ building," I said as he appeared beside Hank. "I've jumped from higher."

"Exactly," Hank said. "Do you know why it is that cats land on their feet when they fall?"

"I haven't really spent time researching it, no."

"Well, they land on their feet because when they jump from higher places, they have enough time to relax their bodies and prepare themselves for their landing. First their neck, followed by their spine and hindquarters. They then arch their backs to reduce the amount of shock to their body when they land, so that when they do, they do so without injury. You're the same. A twenty foot building may give your body enough time to prepare itself properly for the landing, where as a ten foot, as demonstrated by you today, doesn't give you enough time to relax."

"So what happened then? I knocked myself out when I fell?"

"That and severely sprained your ankle."

"You're the only person I know that's managed to actually really get hurt in the Danger Room," Logan said, shaking his head. "It's just supposed to be simulated, kid."

"Shut up," I said. "How bas is a severely sprained ankle?"

"I have it bandaged right now, but you're going to have to stay off it for two or three weeks to let it heal. You need to keep it tightly wrapped and elevated. But if you have to get up, I have a set of crutches for you to use. But you can't do anything active for a while."

"What? I can't do anything for _two weeks_?"

"At best. Probably three."

"I can't go that long without working out, that's insane."

"You'll have to. And you'll have to be careful on it, even after it heals, because once you sprain your ankle, it's easily susceptible to get sprained yet again."

"Great," I mumbled. "So what exactly did I do to hurt myself like this?"

"When you jumped, you landed on your left foot, twisted it, and fell backwards, knockin' yourself out."

"Why do I have a feeling that you _laughed_ at me when this happened?" I asked Logan.

"'Cause I might've."

"You're a sick, twisted man, you know that?"

"I didn't know you'd knocked yourself out. I didn't even know you could."

"The floor's made out of metal, anyone could have done it."

"And yet you're the only one that's managed to do it."

"I'm in a hospital bed with my foot wrapped up; do you have to make fun of me, too?"

"I'm not makin' fun, just pointin' out facts."

"You're a jerk."

"Love you too, darlin'."

"So…can I get up?"

"Yes, but like I said; you need to stay off it as much as possible or it's just going to make the healing process longer. Do you understand?" Hank said.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. It was the first time I had noticed how ridiculous the leather uniforms looked with bare feet. "Yes sir, I understand. I don't _like_ it, but I understand."

"No one said you had to like it Miss Rivers," he said, obviously picking up on my 'sir'. "You just have to follow it. I'm going to go get you a set of crutches."

He left the room, going to the one connected to the one where Logan and I were. Logan gave me his hand and helped me to stand, but when I tried to put even a small amount of weight on my left foot, I felt it send pain up to my knee. I swore.

"Your parents know you swear?" Logan asked with a cocked eyebrow and a small smirk.

"It's number three on a list of many things they don't know about me," I joked. I switched all of my weight over to my right foot, showing perfect balance that at one point I didn't realize I had.

"What's one and two?"

"That I'm a mutant and when I was eight I put eye drops in my grandparent's tea." He continued to look at me with his eyebrow raised. "Eye drops make you…have to go…to the bathroom…"

"You did that to your _grandparents_?"

"They gave me a toothbrush for Christmas."

He shook his head. "You got a list of stuff like that for me?"

Hank emerged from the other room, carrying a set of crutches with him. I took them from him. "Maybe," I said, smiling at Logan. I winked at him. "No, I don't. You think I actually shut up long enough to keep stuff from you?"

"Good point."

"Do you know how to use those?" Hank asked

"I think so," I said. I tried them out, walking around the room.

"I do believe you have the hang of it," Hank said. "Have you used them before?"

"Yeah, but only because a few years ago, my parents went on a vacation to Utah and my mom broke her leg skiing." Logan laughed. I shot him a look, but he just smirked at me. "As I was saying; she broke her leg and she taught me how to use her crutches."

"Well her misfortune is your advantage. I was afraid that it would take you a while to get used to them. But you look perfectly natural. You can go now, if you want."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Logan, take care of her."

"Yeah, see you later, McCoy."

"Bye Hank."

"Bye Logan, Jayden."

I hobbled out of the room and down the hall with Logan beside me. "There is something I don't know about you, kid," he said as we reached the elevator.

"What?" I asked.

"Your middle name." He pressed the button for the top floor.

"I'm not telling you my middle name; you made fun of me."

"So you're not gonna' tell me what it is?"

"Not until you earn it."

"I'll just read your file in Chuck's office."

"Xavier doesn't have a file on me; I'm not a student."

He looked at me. "You're really not gonna' tell me?"

I shook my head. "Nope." The elevator stopped. "Get to work and I might one day."

He walked me to my room and helped me get settled; making my bed so that when I was laying down, my foot was propped up and elevated.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," he said, flipping though the channels on my TV.

"Can I ask you a question other than asking to ask a question?"

"Yeah."

I took a deep breath. "What made you change your mind about me?"

He stopped his channel flipping and looked over at me. "What do you mean?"

"When I was born, you didn't want anything to do with me, but now you do. Why?"

"I ain't a good guy, kid, you know that. You deserved a better father than me-"

"No," I interrupted him. "Don't tell me _that_, tell me why you didn't want me when I was born."

"I didn't love your momma. I didn't know her. She was some waitress I met one night and I made a mistake sleepin' with her. Is that what you wanna' hear? That I didn't want a kid; I didn't want to be a father. You wanna' know that if I had never seen you again, I wouldn't have missed anything?"

"Then why am I here?"

"Why are you askin' questions if you're just gonna' get mad at my answers?"

"I'm not getting mad; I just want to know what happened? Why did you change your mind?"

"'Cause I _did_ see you again, alright? You had a lotta' gut leavin' everything behind just to come find me, and I left you more than once, but you kept comin' after me. No one else would've done that."

"So you changed your mind because I was willing to give everything up for you? Because I had enough 'gut' to go after you whenever you left me?"

"Yeah," he said simply. "You remember that night you came and found me in that bar and tried talkin' me into takin' you with me?"

"You mean when you yelled at me and told me that what I saw wasn't you problem, that I was a mutant and I was going to have to get used to it, because every mutant had to?"

"Yeah."

"Then yes, I remember that night. Why?"

"When I saw you sittin' out there in the rain, cryin', I…I don't know."

"What? You found out you had a heart?" I said sarcastically.

He looked at me. "Something like that."

"So that changed your mind?"

"You impressed me. I wouldn't have missed anything if I had never seen you again, but I did. You came and found me. There's two things you gotta' remember in life, kid; one is when you're gut's tellin' you something, you go after it no matter what. And you did that."

"What's the second thing?"

"What?"

"You said there were two things to remember, you only said one."

"Don't trust a one eyed tattoo artist," he said with a wink.

I smiled at him. "I'll remember that." There was a knock on my door. "Come in," I called.

The door opened and I saw Scott step into the doorway. "Hey, I heard about your foot. Does it hurt much?"

"Not really, no. Hank gave me an Ibuprofen, so I don't really feel much right now."

"Good," he said. "I hate to take Logan away from you, but we have a mission in Brazil, and we're going to need him for a while."

"How long?" I asked.

"Probably just two or three days at most."

"Okay," I said. "Go get some bad guys, furry-face."

He stood from his chair, bent down and kissed me on my forehead. "I'll be back in a little while, darlin'. Stay in bed and keep your foot up, alright?"

I nodded my head. "Alright. Be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, I will."

"Bye Logan. Bye Scott."

"Bye," they both said.

I watched them both leave and thought about how the next year; I would be going with them.

* * *

"How's the patient?" Hank asked.

"Bored out of my skull," I said, closing my book and tossing it on my bed. Logan had been gone for only six hours and I was already out of my mind with boredom.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Me too."

"What book are you reading?"

"It's 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Logan loaned it to me last week, I'm nearly done with it."

"Are you enjoying it so far?"

"Yeah, it's pretty good. I'm just getting a little sidetracked with my thoughts and keep veering from the book."

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, sitting down in the chair by my bed.

"The fact that I can't train for three weeks."

"Ah, I seem to remember the girl who came here spent her days sleeping in, eating whatever she wanted, and not stepping foot in the gym. What happened to her? I haven't seen her in a while." He grinned at me.

I laughed. "I packed her up and sent her back to California."

"Any reasons why?"

"I didn't like her, she was killing me."

"How so?"

"She wanted to be lazy and please people all the time. That's not what I wanted."

"And what is it that you want?"

"To be part of something."

"The team?"

"It would be nice, yeah. But I just want to feel like I belong somewhere."

"Do you not feel that here?"

"When I work hard I do. I feel like I earn it then."

"You're aware that you don't have to earn your place here, aren't you?"

"You have to work in every other relationship, that's what everyone keeps saying, why is it not the same here?"

"Working at it and earning it are two different things."

"You know what I mean."

"You live here, this is your home, you belong here as much as anyone else."

"No, there's…there's a difference."

"Care to explain?"

I let out a deep breath. "There's a feeling…I don't know how to explain it, I never have. When I ran away from home and went to Canada, I wanted it. I always had. But when I left, when my parents came to get me, we waited there so that I could make sure that Logan got the letter I wrote him. It was just telling him that I had found out who he was, why I saw him, and that I was going back home. He came outside and just leaned against the doorway, looking out over the parking lot, and I knew he knew I was there. And…it broke my heart to leave him, I couldn't help from crying, I was just bawling my eyes out. Because…Logan _is_ my home. But my parents didn't know that. They didn't know who he was, or what he meant to me. They didn't understand why I loved him, they just knew I did. They knew that something happened that they weren't a part of. I was part of something that they would never understand." I let out a sigh. "I don't know, I told you I wasn't good at explaining it. But it's like seeing a group of war veterans, that feeling you get when you see them standing, where you get cold chills? Do you have any idea what I'm talking about? Does any of that even make sense?"

He smiled at me kindly. "Yes, I understand exactly what you're trying to say. It is a hard feeling to describe but whenever I attend anything for mutant rights and I stand and speak, I believe I experience exactly what you're trying to explain. It's to be part of something and be proud of it."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's it."

"You think that being part of the X-Men will give you that?"

"I don't know. But it's what I feel when I see them leave on a mission and come back home. They put their lives on the line for strangers. Not because they _have_ to, but because they chose to. I've never been good with people; it's never really been my strong suit."

"You take that after your father."

I smiled. "Yeah, probably so. I've never been good with people, but…ever since I got here, I've seen them, and you, help them and that's what I want to do. I _need_ to do something to help."

"And volunteering at a retirement home wouldn't be the same?" he asked with a smile.

I laughed. "Not quite."

I smoothed out the blanket on my bed with my hand, picking off small balls of lint and dusting them in the floor. I looked out my window, up at the sky. One part was bright, with no cloud and you could see the sun shining. But on the other side, it was gray and there were dark clouds rolling in. It looked conflicted, confused. Like it couldn't make up its mind about whether it wanted to be sunny or storm. And if it was going to storm, then it was going to let the bottom drop out and pour rain, flooding everything. Lightening, thunder, hail, do whatever it wanted. I felt something similar burning inside of me.

"I'm good at this, Hank. I've never had something that I _knew_ I was good at, you know? But with this…I know. I have a lot of work to do, I don't doubt that, but I feel this in me. You don't take someone who's a doctor and tell them to become and artist. You don't take a lifeguard and tell them to start singing. While they may be able to do both sufficiently, you don't take a person from their talent to make them do something else. The more I think about it, the more I feel a need to do it. I feel it running through me, in my blood. It's like an itch to do something that even if I've never done it, it feels so familiar. I can do this, I know it, and it would be a waste of a talent, my mutation, my…my life, if I didn't. I get antsy sitting still, being in one place for very long."

"Cotidiana vilescunt."

"Uh," I said, searching my mind, trying to figure out what he said.

He smiled at me. "Familiarity breeds contempt."

"Of course, I was just about to say that," I joked. "But it's true; it does."

"I know," he said. "Jayden, I think you will be a phenomenal asset to the team. Your drive and passion is undeniable. I've never seen anyone quite so dedicated to anything as you've been to this. No other teenager that I know would give up all of their habits, be it eating whatever you want or sleeping in, all on their own. And what amazes me all the more and makes me even prouder of you is that you've lived your life doing as you were told, never making your own decisions. And yet _you_ did this, no one telling you or even hinting for you to make such a radical change. I just want you to be careful, though. I don't want you to push yourself too far in order to try to prove something to yourself, or anyone else. If you do this, do it for you and at your own level. Don't try to make a deadline. Okay?"

I smiled. "I won't, I promise. I just-"

My breath was stolen from me as a wave of intense heat passed through my body, leaving a faint sting to my skin. I felt a pain that wasn't mine. A pain I had never imagined.

I heard nothing. I saw nothing. But I felt it.

My sight was black as pitch. There was no light.

My sound was mute. I could hear absolutely nothing. There wasn't even a ringing in my ears. It was as if I had none at all.

My sense of smell was gone. I was rendered anosmatic. Not helping was the fact that my taste was also gone.

I couldn't breathe. No matter how much I wanted, I couldn't. But I didn't panic. My mind somehow felt used to the idea of not being able to breathe and it told me to wait.

Wait.

Wait.

I sucked in my first breath, filling my lungs with air.

I could breathe and I could feel. I could feel everything. Even if I didn't understand what exactly I was feeling. There was pain. Burning. But there was more. A lot more.

My eyesight was the first to return. To begin with, it was foggy, unclear, but then it started to get sharper, more focused until it was back to normal.

I was staring straight ahead, unable to move, but well aware of where I was. I saw Hank from the corner of my eye, looking at me, talking. But I couldn't hear him. Not yet.

Slowly there was a buzzing, a small noise that grew louder. The buzz then turned into a mumble. The mumble then became Hank's voice. Becoming louder and clearer.

"Jayden, can you hear me? Jayden?"

I turned my eyes in his direction. "I ant ove," I choked out, my tongue lying lamely in my mouth, not moving.

"Do you need me to do anything?"

"Ust ait," I mumbled. "Ust ait, us ait, just wait, just wait."

My tongue came up from the bottom of my mouth like it had been numbed and the medicine had just worn off. I could taste everything again. I could taste the perfume I had sprayed on myself while in my room earlier and I could taste Hank's cologne. I could taste the furniture polish I had used on my desk. I could taste everything and soon, I could smell it as well.

Everything came back to me. Not with a sudden kick, but very slowly. Gradually coming back to me like they were growing. I could eventually move, see, hear, smell, taste, breathe, but I still felt…_something_. A ghost of pain. A whisper of something hot against my skin. Of burning.

"Jayden, are you all right?" Hank asked, looking at me concerned. He placed his hand on my arm. My skin felt sensitive for a moment, then adjusted to his touch.

I looked over at him. He looked concerned, but not alarmed. There was a small thought that ran through my mind about how extremely odd it was that my powers were considered so normal there, to them. But all I wanted was to be left alone in my own mind.

"I felt something," I muttered quietly, trying to grasp the picture forming in my mind.

There was someone lying on the ground, amidst rubble from what I could guess was from a building. His skin had been ripped from his body. His organs were exposed, the ones that were still intact anyway. He was covered in blood and dust; I could see the muscle and tissue on his body. Chunks of it missing, or barely attached by small threads. I could see metal gleaming from underneath it all. An indestructible ally called adamantium. It had protected his bones, its coating had created a shield for them, but it helped nothing else.

I saw him.

I felt his pain.

I saw him die.

I looked over at Hank and his expression finally turned to that of alarm. I knew he could see it on my face.

"What happened Jayden?"

"I need to talk to Scott. _Now_. I think Logan's going to die."


	10. Hear Me

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or Fox, but I'm so incredibly sick right now, it would just be mean and terribly horrid of anyone to sue me because of it. As I keep mentioning, I'm sick, so there's bound to be more spelling mistakes than usual. Just bear with me and I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter. Tell me what you think.

* * *

I paced my room. Walking from my door to my window. They were almost perfectly aligned with one another. I hobbled back and forth in my almost straight line for two hours. I could feel my foot and ankle hurting. I could feel them swelling, but sitting wasn't an option. I needed to move, to think. To take my mind away from what was going on in Brazil. It wasn't working. Nothing was.

It was after nine o'clock that night and I wondered how my day had gone so terribly wrong. Only twelve hours before, I was being asked out on a date. One that Logan had agreed to let me go on. Then I had sprained my ankle, and Logan had been called away on a mission.

Then I saw him die.

My emotions were so involved in the vision, they went into a panic mode as soon as the image of him lying in rubble had began to form, that it ditched all of my practice and training. In other words, I didn't know if he was _going_ to die, or if he already _had_.

I was halfway to my door when there was a knock. I called for whoever it was to come in, but I knew it was Hank before he ever opened my door or stepped in.

"Did you get in touch with Scott?" I asked, forcing myself to remember to breathe.

"No, I got in touch with Robert."

_Robert, Robert…who's Robert_? my mind thought frantically. _Oh, Bobby. He got in touch with Bobby. Good_.

"And he said that he and Rogue weren't with the rest of the team. Scott, Ororo and Logan had gone to another location and that as soon as they return to the jet, he would have them contact us."

I shook slightly. "This isn't good, this isn't good at all," I muttered, ringing my hands together.

"Logan is quite resilient, I'm sure he'll be fine. It was only Saturday after all when he was completely burnt and came back just the same."

I shook my head. "He didn't have time to rest after that. And his body's been going ever since then. That night he was trying to comfort me, carried me to my room and stayed up all night to make sure I didn't have any nightmares. Yesterday we worked out for two hours in the gym and did a three hour training session in the Danger Room. He had a hard time sleeping last night, too. I can feel it when he has nightmares. Those kids got to him, and he couldn't sleep. I went and sat outside his bedroom door, listening to him. He stayed awake for the rest of the night. And today we were in the Danger Room again for quite a while." I let out a sigh. "His body was tired, I don't know if it can regenerate everything again." I shook my head. "This isn't good, this really isn't good," I muttered again.

He looked at me and nodded his head, deciding not to argue against my points. "If I find out anything, I'll be sure to come wake you. But for tonight, you should get some sleep and rest. Okay?"

"Yeah, I'll try."

I wasn't lying. I _did_ try to get some rest that night, I just couldn't. I lay awake in my bed, tossing and turning, staring up at the ceiling, out the window, trying everything I could think of to go to sleep, but nothing worked. After three hours of rocking myself back and forth and humming 'I'll Be Seeing You' countless times, I got up. I put on the real song, sat in the floor beside my bed, curled up and began rocking myself once again.

One year before, I didn't know who Logan was. I had never seen him. I had never ever heard my real mother speak of him. Not once. But there was no question about it; he was mine.

My father.

My protector.

My teacher.

My mentor.

My best friend.

My everything.

"You can't leave me," I whispered to my empty room, wanting for him to hear me somehow. "You can't leave me. They can't take you away from me. What am I going to do without you? I'll be here all alone." I didn't bother wiping away the tears that were falling from my eyes. "You can't leave me. We've just found each other. I need you…I _love_ you, so just hang on for me, okay? I need you to come back home. I need _you_. You can't leave me. You can't leave me."

I continued to rock myself as I cried; falling to sleep huddled by my bed. He couldn't leave me. I wouldn't be able to make it if he did.

* * *

When I woke the next morning, my foot and ankle were swollen from not keeping it elevated, and my eyes were swollen from crying. Jimmy Durante was still singing quietly from the speakers just above my head. I reached up, turned it off, and looked at my watch. It was half past eight in the morning. I pulled myself up from the floor, standing on both of my feet. I felt a blood vein pop in my left foot. I didn't care. I needed to speak with Hank. I tried to limp out of my room, but my foot was too swollen for that. I grabbed my crutches and finally made my way down the hall as quickly as I could. I knocked on Hank's door. It was loud and clumsy, not polite in any way. I didn't care. It seemed to take forever before he finally answered.

"Jayden, I didn't expect to see you this early," he said.

"Have you heard from Scott?"

He nodded slowly. Seriously. "He's in his room."

Without saying another word, I turned and started back down the opposite end of the hall. I could hear Hank walking behind me. I stopped outside of the door and didn't hesitate before opening it, looking around the room. Logan's room was empty. He wasn't there.

I closed the door back and continued hobbling down the hall until I reached Scott's door. I knocked, and again, it didn't sound polite. It wasn't. It was urgent. It seemed to take even longer for Scott to answer his door than it did Hank. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his door opened up and Scott stood in the doorway. He looked as if he had known it was me before he even answered it.

"Where's Logan? Why isn't he in his room?"

"Jayden-"

"No, don't. If he was hurt, he'd be in the med lab, and if he was there, then Hank would be there too, but he's not." My voice cracked, I tried to make my tone even, strong, but I couldn't. I wanted to cry and it showed. "So if he's not hurt and he's not in his room, then where is he?"

"I don't know, I honestly don't know.

"What do you mean you don't _know_?" I began to cry. "He came back with you this morning-"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "He didn't."

"You _left_ him?"

"Jayden, there was a bomb. Logan thought he might be able to cut it off somehow, keep it from detonating. Storm and I created a shield around him and the bomb, so that in case it went off, we could contain the effects and keep it from hurting anyone else. He didn't get it stopped in time and it went off with him in there. We searched everywhere, all of us did. We couldn't find him. We waited, thinking that he might have wandered off and that he would come back. He didn't."

"Why didn't you call the Professor-?"

"We did. But there's a problem with Logan's regenerative abilities. Sometimes when his brain has to grow back, Cerebro can't connect with it. It takes days for it to finally establish a connection. He couldn't find him either."

I felt Hank's hand on my shoulder. My eyes were pouring tears. "Is he dead?"

"I don't know, Jayden. Right now he's just missing. But yes, it is a possibility."

"He can't die," I sobbed. "He promised me he wouldn't! He said he wouldn't leave me! He can't die, he can't!"

"I think you need to sit down," Hank said to me. Scott opened his door and they ushered me to his bed and sat me down. "Just take a deep breath and calm down. You'll be fine."

"He can't leave me, he can't leave me."

"I know," Hank said.

"No you don't know!" I yelled. "He's my best friend and I lose him, he can't die. I need him. I need him. I need him," I sobbed. "I just found him, he can't leave me. He promised he wouldn't leave me. He can't die and leave me all by myself."

"I know it's hard, but you're not by yourself; you have us," Scott said.

"You? _You_? You killed him! You hated him and you wanted him dead. You knew he wouldn't be able to turn the bomb off and you sent him in there anyway, and then you left him. You hated him and I loved him and you left him."

I was beyond reason or thought. I was hysterical.

"I didn't want him to die, Jayden, we don't even know if he _is_ dead. I want him to be here for you, I want to see you with him. I don't hate him, I never have. We all love you and we want you to be happy. I would never take anything away from you just for spite even if I _did_ hate him."

"I can't breathe," I said, struggling with my breath.

"You're having a panic attack," Hank said. "You need to calm down."

"I want my daddy," I cried. "That's all I want."

"I know, but you have to breathe still."

"I can't. I can't breathe."

"Just calm down."

"I can't!" I screamed. "Logan is _gone_; I can't do it without him."

"Shh," Hank said, pulling me to him. "Just try to breathe."

"He promised he wouldn't leave me. He lied, he _promised_ me and he lied!"

"He didn't lie; he wanted to be with you. We don't even know for sure that he's not just missing. You can't give up on him. If there is anyway for him to survive, know that he will to come back to you. You are his world Jayden, he didn't lie to you."

"I saw him die. I saw him."

"You don't know if it happened or not. He may still be alive. You're not certain that something could have changed."

"I'm not certain of anything, I just want him back."

"When nothing is certain, anything is possible. You just have to have faith in him."

"He _is_ my faith. Without him, I don't have anything," I said. "What am I supposed to do without him?"

"Breathe," Hank whispered to me. "You're supposed to breathe."

I stared ahead, watching as my already blurred vision from crying began to turn black. And then the darkness took over.

* * *

"Jayden, Jayden, can you hear me?" Hank asked.

"What happened?" I mumbled, opening my swollen eyes.

"You passed out."

"Why?"

"You were having a panic attack; you weren't getting enough oxygen to your brain, causing you to pass out."

"Where am I?"

"You're in your room. Scott carried you in here."

"So he's really back then? That wasn't a dream?"

"No."

"And Logan's really gone too?"

"He's currently missing, yes."

"I don't feel good."

"Do you need to throw up?"

"Yeah."

I sat up, he handed me a waste basket and I began vomiting. It's odd how people can be guarded about certain things. Not wanting people see you when you're hurt, or when you cry, or when you get sick. But when something terrible happens, they all seem so unimportant. Inconsequential. So stupid.

"Scott's bringing up something to help you with your nerves, and it also helps you sleep some. It should settle your stomach too. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. He handed me a cold washcloth and I wiped my mouth. "Thank you."

My senses weren't very strong right then and I was glad. The last thing I needed was to have the small and taste of vomit magnified. Hank took the basket from me, promising to get me a clean one before he left. I lay back down and curled up on my bed. I was exhausted. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to speak. I was too tired to even cry. I just lay there, doing nothing more than barely breathing.

"You're awake," Scott said, walking into my room. I nodded. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"You will be." I stared at him. "I know what you're going through, and you will be okay," he said, walking over to me. He held out a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the palm of his other. I took the pills, drank the water and handed the glass back. "You just need some rest."

"I need Logan," I mumbled.

"We're working on it," Hank said. "We'll leave you and let you sleep, okay?"

I nodded. Scott started to leave. "Scott," I called out, stopping him. He turned around. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Saying that this was your fault. I know it's not and I'm sorry."

He gave me a small smile. "We say things we don't mean sometimes when we get hurt like that. I'm going to do my best to try to find out what happened to him, okay? I promise."

I nodded. "Okay, thank you."

"You're welcome Jayden, get some sleep."

I felt numb. Nothing felt right, or real. And I wanted it to stay that way. I knew that if I could feel it, my heart couldn't take it. I didn't know if I could survive that kind of hurt.

* * *

I woke later that night in a panic. I was shivering and sweating at the same time and I was having a hard time catching my breath. My head was pounding. Something was happening, I could feel it, I just didn't know what.

I stood from my bed and tried to move quietly, but I was too clumsy with my foot wrapped up. I left my room and went a few doors down the hall. I stopped outside of Logan's door and waited for just a second before opening it and limping in. I closed the door behind me with a soft 'click'.

His room was empty and it felt cold. There was no sign of life in it. I made my way to his open closet and took out one his flannel shirts, slipping it on. It was far too big for me and hit just above my knees. I pulled it close to me and inhaled the scent of it. It smelled clean, but somehow still of him. There was a cigar smoke smell that just couldn't be washed out.

I looked around the dark room. There was barely any light shining through his window, they sky was still cloudy, but there was enough for me to see. Plus, my senses had come back strong since the last time I had been awake, allowing me to see better. The room was simple. Clean. Orderly. Not something you would expect from Logan, but he like to keep his things in place. It made it easier for him to notice if anything was missing. I looked at his bookshelf, running my fingers over the worn spines of the many paperback books lined up. There was an empty space near the end where his copy of 'The Count of Monte Cristo' was missing. It was in my room.

I walked across the hardwood floor, shadows following me in the dark as I looked at the things on his dresser. I picked up the bottle of his cologne and opened it. I held it close to my nose and inhaled the scent. It was enough to almost bring tears to my eyes once again. I closed the bottle and sat it back in its place. I then picked up his wallet. I ran my fingers over the leather. It was old and broken in, but still strong. Just like him. I opened it and saw the photos he had in the small, plastic picture holders. Jean. Marie. Me. A tear slid down my cheek as I looked at the picture of the two of us together and felt a pain in my heart. I folded the wallet back up and kissed it before setting it back down in its place as well.

I slowly walked around his room, looking and touching his things carefully. Then I went to his bed and lay down. I curled up and pulled his covers around me. They smelled like him, bringing more tears to my eyes. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, reminding myself of a child. The only thing keeping me sane was the thought of what Professor Xavier had once told me; Logan's and my mind were strongly connected, more so that anyone else he had ever seen. I felt it when he had a bad dream, when he was in pain. I also felt it when he was happy. I just felt _him_. In my mind. In my blood. In my bones. And if all of that was true, if we were so strongly connected that I could feel what he was feeling, even when I couldn't see him, then I could feel him if he was gone. I would know it if he were dead. I would be missing a part of me. But I didn't. I was scared and worried that he was missing, but I didn't feel like a part of me was dead. And that gave me something to cling to. It didn't stop me from crying, it didn't stop me from being scared, it didn't stop the pain. But I felt like something was happening. The part of him inside of me burned and that gave me hope.

Hope that he was still alive.

Hope that he would come back to me.

Hope that I could hold on until he did.

"Goodnight Logan," I whispered out to the cold, empty room. "I love you."

* * *

"Jayden, I've been looking all over for you. I was worried sick," Hank said as I limped down the hall. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I said. "I just couldn't sleep in my room last night, so I got up."

"Just so long as you're safe." He gave me a small smile. "How are you doing this morning?"

I grunted. "Fine," I staid, stopping outside of my door. "Heard anything about Logan today?"

"No, I'm afraid. Charles and Scott and I are working on it, but I left to come check on you."

"I think I'm just going to go to bed for a while. So I'll be fine, you can go back helping them."

"Have you had anything to eat today?"

"No."

"Why don't you go get some breakfast? I'll cook whatever you want for you and then you can go to sleep."

"I'm not hungry."

"You didn't eat anything yesterday either. You need to eat something."

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

"You should at least try to-"

"Hank," I snapped, then let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, I appreciate your concern for me, but just now, I just want to go get in my bed and sleep. I'm tired, I have a headache and I just don't want to deal with anything right now, okay?"

"Just try to eat something some time today, alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah, if I start to feel better I will."

He let out a sigh and looked at me worriedly. "Okay, just rest and take care of yourself. If you need anything, I'll be in the lab working on finding out anything on Logan. If you need anything feel free to come get me or Scott."

"I will. Thank you," I said, opening my door.

"Jayden?"

I looked over at him. "Yeah?"

"What is your intuition telling you about Logan?"

I paused for a moment. "Part of it's saying that he's alive, that he's okay, he's lost but he'll come back home."

"And the other part?"

I looked down at the hardwood floor of my room. I tried to hold back years. They were right there, wanting to break through, but I fought them. I felt my throat tightening, hurting, getting sore. Once I was sure that I could keep myself from crying, I looked back up to him. "That I saw him die." A tear betrayed me and raced down my cheek. "Have you ever seen someone that you love die, Hank? Have you ever seen them take their last breath and know that that's it? You don't get them back, they're gone forever. Do you know what it's like to have your best friend, your father, the first person you ever let yourself get close to, then you let see the _real_ you, die? I saw him, and I watched him die. I don't know if something changed, if he decided to do something differently, I don't know. But I know I saw him. And I felt him. I felt how much pain he was in. I felt him burning. I was more scared that he was. He just hurt like Hell." I wiped away the tears that had followed the first one that had betrayed me by escaping my eyes. I took a deep breath, held it in for a moment, then let it out. "My intuition isn't helping me with this one. I have far too much of my own emotions invested in this. I can't tell the difference between the truth and what I _want_ to be true." I shook my head. "I don't know what's worse; going out of my mind worrying if he's dead or not, or knowing for sure. I'm just _so _scared."

"Fear is but a motivator that forces us to face what will make us stronger, or that which will cripple us from ever living our lives."

I wiped the tears from my face with the sleeves of Logan's shirt that I was still wearing. "Who said that?"

"I did."

"Very astute for a man who tends to frighten people who don't know him."

"That's how I know it's true. My fear of people's reaction towards me is no longer crippling. Facing it made me stronger. Whatever happens, if you chose to let it, it can make you stronger. I know you Jayden; you're a strong person. You can and will see this through."

I gave him a small, sad smile and shook my head. "No, you don't understand. You don't know me, because if you did, you would know that I'm not strong. Deep inside, I'm just a scared little girl, pretending to be grown up. Without Logan, I'm weak."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. I'm not trying to hide or pretend I'm not, but if something happens and he doesn't come back, I'm going to fall apart. That's the short end of it, Hank. It's the truth. I lived without him for eighteen years of my life and I felt it everyday. Being completely powerless to do anything. I don't want to go back to that again, but I will. Because that's who I am." I closed my eyes and shook my head. "He wanted to know my middle name and I wouldn't tell him. I was mad at him for making fun of me and I told him that I would tell him one day. But what if he doesn't come back? What if I don't get to him tell?" I cried.

Hank came to me and pulled me to him. "Shh," he said. "Everything's going to be fine."

"What if it's not? What if he doesn't come back? What am I supposed to do, Hank? I don't know how to live without him anymore."

And I didn't from the time I had met Logan, there was always something about him that drew me to him. I could remember so clearly the first night we had shared together. I had been trying to find him for a week, and with no luck up until that point, I had thought of giving up. Then I saw him. He came out of a bar and I felt it. I knew it was him. I looked up and saw him standing in the same alleyway as me, that I had ducked into to get out of the rain. The rain that lasted for months. I got up to follow and slipped. I fell, hitting my head on the uneven ground, knocking myself out. He had helped me and when I told him that I was there because I saw him, he told me to go back home. I had bothered him, gotten under his skin, because he had sensed me there. My scent was familiar to him, he just didn't know why. Then he realized I was bleeding and took me to his motel room and helped to clean it up. He let me stay there, but told me I had to leave in the morning. That night, I was telling him why I was there, why I couldn't go home, why it was so important for him to take me with him. Our eyes locked and for the first time in my life, I felt a connection with someone. With him. He was what I had spent my life searching for. What was I supposed to do if he was gone?

* * *

Days passed with no word of Logan. The Professor couldn't locate him; there were no calls, no letters, not sign of him at all and I was forced to deal with the fact that he _was_ gone. For good. He wasn't coming back and I was alone again.

I never left my room, I rarely ate, and even though I spent most of my time in bed, I barely slept. I never understood depression. I never understood a kind of pain that could eat away your spirit. But I finally got it. Not only did I have to deal with Logan being gone, I had to also deal with learning our relationship wasn't that strong. He was dead and I didn't feel anything missing from me. I _couldn't_ deal with that.

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling too much pain in my heart to sleep. Whether the pain was real or I was only imagining it, I wasn't sure. I didn't care. Real or not, I still felt it all the same.

I was tired.

I was weak.

I was done.

A thought popped into my head at some time around five in the morning and by half past six, it not only seemed to make perfect sense, but it also looked pretty good to me.

I got out of bed and limped to the bathroom. I had gotten used to the limping. It was annoying, but I refused to use my crutches. They were even more annoying.

When I reached the bathroom, I turned on the water to the bathtub and began filling it. I looked at myself in the mirror, for one of the first times that week. My eyes were red and the area around them was swollen and puffy. I had dark under eye circles. My skin was pale from lack of sun and my lack of eating, and my dark hair encircled my face, illuminating the fact that it had lost color. I still wore Logan's shirt. After every bath, I pulled it back on over my T-shirt or wife-beater. Looking at myself in the mirror, I truly looked like a child wearing their father's clothes. It engulfed my form, bringing to memory just how small I had been compared to him.

"I'm sorry Logan, but I can't do this anymore," I said out loud, my voice cracking from not being used in so long. "Why did you leave me? You knew I wouldn't be able to make it." I wiped the tears from my pale cheeks. I felt lightheaded. "Maybe this way, we can be together again."

I slipped off his shirt and folded it before placing it gently on the sink counter. I turned off the water before I stepped into the tub and sat down. My clothes soaked up the water and I felt them start getting heavy and cling to my body. I slid down the tub, my face the only thing not submerged. I took a deep breath and then pulled my head back, allowing water to cover every part of me. I had my eyes open and I could see my hair floating around me. I had been a good swimming when I was younger, I learned how to hold my breath for over two minutes, and I knew that this would take a while. I let out my breath I had been holding and watched the air bubbles rise to the top of the water.

I rested my head at the bottom of the tub and closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and I saw him. He was everywhere. I could hear him. I could hear us.

"_Say my name," I told him._

"_What?"_

"_I want to hear you say my name. Just once."_

"_Jayden."_

…

"_You're not a mistake, kid. I don't care how you were born, what your mother thought about you, you're mine and that ain't a mistake."_

…

"_I'm _here_, I got a job and I did it for you. Nobody else, not even Marie. _You_."_

…

"_I love you," I whispered. _

"_Right back at'cha, kid." He was walking away from me, but he came back. I felt his lips kiss the top of my head. "You know I'm coming back, right? It won't take long, I'll be back soon."_

"_And I'll still be here when you get back."_

_He lifted my chin and winked at me. I smiled at him. "I'll be back."_

…

"_Go to sleep, baby. No one's gonna' bother you tonight. I'm gonna' be right here."_

…

I listened to him. I went to sleep, knowing that he was watching over me.

* * *

"_Wake up. What're you doin'? Get up, kid. It ain't time to die yet. Wake up_!"

I sat up and drew in a deep breath. I looked around me, wide eyed and panting. I had heard him. He was talking to me. But he wasn't there. I was still in the bathtub. But aside from being severely out of breath, I was fine. I was still alive.

I looked at my watch. It was fifteen after seven in the morning. I had been fully submerged and asleep for over thirty minutes. I grabbed my head as I began sobbing violently. "What is wrong with me? I can't even die," I cried. "I can't do this, I can't do it. I need you Logan, I can't do this without you, just let me die!"

I cried. I didn't know what else to do so. Everything was so confusing that it was the only thing that made sense. If anyone would have walked into my room that morning, they would have seen a very sad and scared little girl crying for her father.

But no one did walk into my room.

I was all alone.


	11. My Only Hope

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or Fox, but my momma did buy me a spiffy new pair of pajama pants today with little silver skulls on them. They even have bows on their head. They're uber cute, but don't help me from still being sick. I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter. I'm still sick and it's half past two in the morning right now. I've spent the past three hours on and off typing this up, so please enjoy while I crash in bed.

* * *

"Good morning Hank," I said as I walked into the kitchen later that same morning.

"Good morning Jayden. It's good to see you up again," he said, smiling at me. It was just the two of us in the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am."

"What would you like for breakfast? I can make anything you want." He stood from his table, abandoning his cup of coffee and newspaper. I sat in the seat across from where he had been. "Do you want anything special?"

"Do you know how to make chocolate chip pancakes?"

He beamed at me. "Of course," he said. "But the question is; do you want chocolate pancakes with chocolate chips, or regular ones?"

I gave him a small smile. "Chocolate."

I pulled my feet up onto my chair and hugged my knees. Once I had stopped crying, I decided that that was it. If he wasn't going to let me die, then I was going to live. I had to redress, since my pajamas were soaked from wearing them while sitting in the tub. I threw on a pair of blue jeans, a wife-beater and flip-flops. Which wasn't unusual for me. But I still wore Logan's shirt. Even after having worn it for so many days, it still smelled of him, which was comforting.

But I was down there talking to Hank, not because of Logan, but because of Scott. I remembered that when I first met Scott and again when I first arrived at the school, I saw how different he was from how I had seen him in my vision of when Jean died. I knew that he still hurt, but he was capable of hiding all of that and pretending to go on with his life. Maybe over time, after pretending for so long, it became true; he _was_ okay. Bruised and maybe a little broken, but still all there. And if he could do it, maybe I could too. It didn't stop me from hurting, or missing him, but I didn't want to repeat that morning's events ever again. So I did what Logan always told me when I got hurt; get back up. He drilled that into my brain, time after time. It doesn't matter what it was, he told me to never let someone get me down and stay there.

Get back up.

"_Get up, kid. Get up_." I shook my head. I could hear him talking. It was faint, but I could hear it.

"I didn't expect to see you up this morning, Jayden," Scott said, walking into the kitchen. "It's good to see you, though." He smiled at me.

"Thanks. I started missing Hank's cooking, so I put my depression away long enough to see if I could swindle him into making me breakfast."

"That seems to have worked out well," Scott said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"I have a tendency for doing whatever a beautiful girl asks me to," Hank said, winking at me. I gave him a small smile.

"Good morning Hank, Scott, Jayden," Ororo said walking into the kitchen. The Professor was right behind her.

I watched the scene unfold before me. Within minutes, all of the staff, including Rogue, was in the kitchen. I watched them talk and interact with each other. These were the people I had come to know as my friends, as my family. And I knew that no matter what, I wasn't alone. I had them. And one day, I _would_ be okay again.

* * *

I was having a dream. I was swimming. I kept trying to go to the surface, but I couldn't find it. I didn't know which way was up or down.

I was lost.

I was scared.

I felt a hand on me.

I woke up immediately, praying it wasn't just a dream. I wasn't. There was a hand on my shoulder. I knew that hand. I knew the strength and power behind it, and the delicacy it tried to show. I sat up in bed and looked at him. It was dark in my room, but the moon was shining full through my window and I could see him perfectly. He was sitting on my bed beside me.

"Hey darlin', didn't mean to wake you." Logan pushed the hair away from my face. "Sorry I took so long gettin' back. It's hard to get someone to let you on a plane with no money and a body full of metal."

I fell into his arms and burst into tears as he held me. "I thought you were dead," I cried. "I didn't want to believe it, but I saw you die. I was so scared."

He held me tight against him. "I'm so sorry baby; I didn't mean to scare you." I sobbed into his chest. "I'm here now. I didn't leave you; I told you I wouldn't and I ain't goin' to."

"Oh I missed you, Logan. I thought you were gone."

"I was hurryin'."

"Why didn't you call or write, or do _something_?"

"There wasn't exactly a pay phone or post office on every corner."

I buried my face into his shoulder. "What happened? Scott said that they looked for you but couldn't find you. What went wrong?"

"Scott and 'Ro put up a shield around me and the bomb so that when it went off, it wouldn't hurt anyone else. I was gonna' try to cut it off, before it blew up, but the bomb went off. It blasted me against the shield, and when they took it down, it had too much pressure built up in it and the blast kept goin'. It knocked me another fifty or more feet away. As soon as I could walk, I started off towards the jet, but by the time everything had patched itself back up, I realized I had been goin' the wrong way. I made it back to where the jet was three hours later, just in time to see it takin' off without me."

"I saw you die," I said, my voice small.

"I know, but I cam back. I always will." He kissed the top of my head. "But you won't, and if you ever pull a stunt like you did this mornin' in the bathtub, you better pray it works or you're gonna' be in a lotta' trouble. Don't ever do that again, you hear me?"

I looked up at him. "How did you know about that?"

"I was sleepin' and I saw it. What made you get up?"

"I heard…I heard you, but I thought I was just imagining it."

He shook his head. "No, I ain't gonna' let you give up that easy. Not over me."

"I was just so tired and was missing you, I…I didn't know what else to do."

"No that. I don't care what happens; you don't ever do that again. People are gonna' screw you over and screw you up, but you don't let 'em win. You don't let 'em see you hurtin', 'cause that's what they want. That's how they win. You get up and you keep fightin, kid. You hear me?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He wiped away the tears from my face. "You gotta' be tired. Why don't you go back to sleep? I'm back now, you don't have to worry."

"I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay here with me. Please?"

He pulled me back to him and I felt him breathe into my hair. "I ain't goin' anywhere, darlin'. I'm right here, I'm gonna' stay with you, just get some sleep."

I lay back down in my bed and he lay down beside me. I curled up next to him and rested my head on his chest. He held me to him tightly, even though I continued to cry. He stroked my hair and whispered to me that everything was fine. I had never felt so relieved of anything in my life. He was back home. Everything was perfect. I could sleep.

* * *

"How could you _miss_ me? I was three freakin' feet away from the jet when you took off. How could you not see me?" I heard Logan yell, waking me up.

"We don't exactly have rear view mirrors on the Blackbird, Logan. I didn't see you. We waited for you, but it was in the best interest of the team for me to get them out right then. Why do you want me to say? I didn't see you, I made a mistake."

"I got someone I gotta' take care of. I got a girl in there who cried for two hours last night 'cause she was scared that I was dead. You don't make mistakes like that Summers, not with her."

"I didn't do it to hurt her. That's completely ludicrous."

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is. I told you; I didn't see you," I heard Scott defending himself. "It's not my fault you started off the wrong way. I thought you had a keen sense of direction? What happened to that?"

"It got blown up when the freakin' bomb went off, like everything else on me!"

"You _volunteered_ to cut the bomb, don't try to act like I _forced_ you to do it."

"I didn't say you did, all I said was that it got blown up. It takes time to grow body parts back. But you know about that, don't you? I've been here for almost two years and you still haven't grown a set yet."

"That's great, Logan. Insult me with your eighth grade humor. We gave you an hour to get yourself back together and then waited two for you to show up. They were sending over the police, firemen, and special task units from Rio; we _had_ to leave."

"I know they sent 'em over. I had to deal with 'em when they got there. And I don't know about you, but it ain't easy for a Canadian speakin' English to explain to a bunch of cops who speak Portuguese why I'm standin' where a bomb went off, stark naked."

"You call what you speak _English_?" Scott replied. Logan growled. "So how did you explain it to them?"

"One of 'em that eventually showed up spoke some English and Spanish."

"I don't care what language you speak; a Canadian on a bomb site with no clothes is still hard to explain. What did you say?"

"Enough to get me from Rio to some town in Colombia. Talked someone into getting me from there to Belize in some crop duster plane that I think they'd duct taped the wings on. I hitched from there to Mexico City, where someone got me on a plane to Texas, and it was worse than the crop duster. After that, I got a ride up to Indiana, then I got my own care and drove the rest of the way. Except for the last fifty or so miles. Those I walked."

"How, exactly, did you do all of this with no money?"

"I got ways."

"Why do I feel that your 'ways' involved one or more persons getting hurt?"

"'Cause it did."

"Then that's why," Scott said. "And so you stole someone's car?"

"Yeah. That's why I had to walk the last fifty miles. I stashed the car in the bushes, called the cops, told 'em where it was, then left. Pay attention, Summers."

"I am paying attention, and I'm interested in the part where you left out if there was any particular reason for why you didn't try getting in contact with Jayden while you were gone on your little adventure, or are you still mastering how to use the incredible technology of a 'phone'?"

"No, I wasn't gonna' use a phone and leave the school's number on it."

"You're paranoid."

"No, I just don't feel like havin' the school invaded again."

"And you didn't write for the same reason, or was that because you don't know how?"

"Keep it up and I'm gonna' carve my name into your face."

"Touch me and you'll _need_ your healing powers."

"Are you threatin' me Summers?"

"No, I'm warning you."

I got out of bed and limped to my door. I opened it and joined the two of them in the hall.

"Great, you woke the kid up," Logan said to Scott.

I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. I laughed at them. "You _both_ woke me up," I said. "Logan, you're not even home for a day and you and Scott are already fighting?" I shook my head. "Oh how I missed this while you were gone."

"We're not fighting; we're discussing," Scott said.

Logan and I both shot him identical looks, our eyebrows raised in question. I'm eighteen, not stupid."

"What's the difference?"

"Shut up," I muttered to him.

"We were just discussing about how Logan got home. Apparently he's pretty resourceful when he has to be."

"I heard. Though I'm not sure what crazy driver would give a hitchhiker like you a ride? I'd be scared you would kill me or something."

"I can be charmin' when I need to be," he said. "And what do you mean you'd be scared of me? As I recall, you followed me to my motel room the first night we met."

"You told me to."

"You always listen to complete strangers?"

"When I've been seeing them in my visions for a month and I have a gaping head wound that I need help with, yes."

"You gave her a gaping head wound when you met?" Scott asked.

"No, she did that one all by herself. She got some pretty good bruises outta' the deal, too."

"And a pretty big scar on the back of my head, too. What can I say; I'm special."

"Logan, you're back!" I heard Marie cry excitedly, running from her room to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"Hey darlin', you miss me while I was gone?" he asked with a smirk.

She smiled up at him as she let go. "Now what would give you that idea, sugah?"

I watched them both smiling at each other and felt an overwhelming urge to vomit.

"Are you feeling okay, Jayden? You look a little peaked," Scott said.

Logan and Rogue both looked at me. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied quietly. "I'm going to go down to breakfast." I started down the hall. "If I can keep it down," I muttered to myself.

All of my good feelings had been replaced by anger, jealousy, and disgust. Though not in that particular order.

"How are you this morning, Jayden?" Xavier asked when I walked into the kitchen.

"Better sir, how are you?"

"I'm doing quite well, thank you. I imagine that you're happy to see that Logan has returned?"

"Yes sir, I am," I said, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. "It's just a little odd gong from him being gone, thinking that he's possibly dead, to having him home, with everything going back to the same as before. It's just a little awkward to adjust to. I want to be happy, and I am, I'm ecstatic and elated, but…I was _so_ sad before, it's just… I don't know, just hard, I guess."

"It's quite natural to feel that way, I assure you. You want to forget about it, yes?" I nodded at him. "And yet you don't want to give yourself permission to because you feel as if you would be belittling your emotions during this past week."

"Something like that, yeah."

He gave me a warm smile. "Just give yourself a few days to adjust to him being here. You'll be fine. And don't feel guilty about any of the emotions you may feel. This is an awkward and unique situation. You take your time and deal with it how you personally feel you should."

I nodded at him once again. "I will."

"And you're aware that you can feel free to talk to me at anytime, right? You're more than welcome to speak to me about anything. Do you know that?"

I stared at him for a moment before nodding solemnly. "Yes sir, I do know that."

"Then next time you get an idea that you feel may be a good one, please don't hesitate in discussing it with me first." He didn't say it, but I knew he was talking about my attempt at suicide the previous morning. He knew how to bring up a sensitive topic without ever mentioning it.

I looked away from him before nodding my head again. "Yes sir, I'll do that."

"May I take your word on that?" he asked with a small smile that I caught from the corner of my eye.

"I promise that I'll do the best I can in whatever state of mind that I'm in. You have my word on that, sir."

"Then that is all I can ask of you." I looked up at him and he gave me another warm smile. I smiled back.

"Jayden!" Hank's voice boomed as he entered the kitchen. "I've just seen Logan upstairs, you must be delighted."

"Yeah, I am. Everyone else must be as well; now I can stop my moping."

"You weren't moping; you were grieving," Xavier said.

"There's a difference?" I asked.

"I believe so, yes," he said.

"Well, no more grieving then. Everything's back to normal now."

"I would hardly say 'normal'," Hank said, taking a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. "You've gone from believing that he was dead to seeing him alive. That's not an easy adjustment to make."

"I never _believed_ that Logan was dead; I _thought_ he might be, only because I saw him die."

"Seeing_ is _believing, is it not?" Hank asked.

"Not for me. Seeing is the possibility that something might happen, but other events may occur that affects the true outcome. Believing is to know something happens without a doubt."

"Is that not why we have faith? To believe things we don't always know for sure?"

"You're a scientist, don't you believe in science? In the cold, hard facts? For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, or whatever?" I asked. "Besides, faith has never been my strong suit, I'm afraid."

"I do believe that yes, but we must have faith in what we are doing, or otherwise there is no science. There is no invention. There's no love, or families. We must have faith in what we are doing, or otherwise there is not motivation. And from what I hear, faith must be your strong suit. Did you not leave your home in California with faith that you would find Logan in Canada?"

"No, I made the decision out of reason, or otherwise I would have seen how insane it was. I couldn't get him out of my head. Every time I slept, I saw him. I was tired, I didn't know what else to do," I said, noticing that my last words sounded familiar. I thought for a minute before realizing that I had said the same thing to Logan the night before.

"Still, it's quite a big decision to make, to have no faith in it at all," Hank said.

"I have a habit of making big decisions without giving them too much thought. I tend to just go with my gut, whatever my intuition tells me to do."

"Yes, but sometimes a tired mind can make us believe that an idea or decision is a great solution to our problem when it, in fact, only adds to the problem even more," the Professor said. "Do you not agree, Jayden?"

I smiled at him. "Yes sire, I agree with you. Fortunately for me, chasing after Logan was the last thing I felt I had to do without much thought. Otherwise I might be in a bit of trouble."

He smiled back at me. "Yes, very fortunately."

The Professor had a way of talking about things without ever actually saying it. And I appreciated it. I wanted to keep the incident from the morning before as much of a secret as possible. No one besides the Professor and Logan knew about it, and I didn't want the rest of the school to know how badly my depression had gotten. It was just once. And I was never going to do it again.

* * *

I never heard him, I just felt him.

Like one minute I was alone, and the next, he was right beside me.

"You up for a walk kid, or is your foot still to bad?" Logan asked. I was in the library trying to find a book I hadn't read yet. I turned my neck to look up at him and nodded. "Good, let's go. And keep it quiet, I don't think McCoy wants you on it for another couple of weeks."

I quietly followed him as he left the library, then out of the house and onto the grounds of the school. It was late afternoon, turning into evening, and everything had a red tint to it. As I walked closely to him, I remembered something my father had told me when I was younger; red in the morning, sailors warning. Red at night, sailors delight. I didn't know if it was true, but if it was, then it meant that the next day would be as nice as that one.

I continued to follow him as he veered from the path onto his own, cutting into the woods. I had only gone into the woods at the school a few times, so I stayed right behind him, trusting that he knew where he was going. After walking for maybe fifteen minutes, we stopped in front of a fairly large lake.

"I didn't know this was out here," I said as we both stood staring out over it.

"Ro's garden's nice when you need somewhere quiet, but sometimes it just ain't quiet enough. Sometimes you need to get away, too."

I took in the sight, not able to imagine anything more beautiful. More peaceful. I had seen the ocean, spent weeks at the beach, but for me, just a simply lake surrounded by woods, with the sky casting a pink and red glow to everything it touched was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

There was a small breeze, causing the trees to blow and the leaves to rustle. It also caused a small chill to run across my skin, which felt nice compared to the hot, early summer weather.

The fading sun allowed just enough light to reflect the trees, the dock hanging out over it, and Logan and me in it. I looked at our reflections, studying them. It had taken me a long time to associate myself with belonging to him, with being his daughter, as being a part of him. But staring at our reflections rippling in the water, I wondered what took so long. I had never realized just _how_ much we looked alike until right then.

"How'd your date go?" Logan asked, breaking out peaceful silence. But he knew how to speak without it being startling. It seemed natural, like he whispered it to me on the back of the wind.

"What date?"

He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. "The one you were supposed to go on Saturday."

"Oh yeah," I said, shifting my weight to my right foot. "I didn't go."

"Finally come to your senses?"

"No, I just had bigger things to worry about besides a stupid date with some boy."

He looked away from me, staring back out over the lake. "I'm sorry I didn't call, it's just after the school was attacked last time-"

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "I understand. I wanted you to call, but I understand why you didn't."

"Good," he said. "Let's sit down." He led me over to the small dock, stretching out over the lake, and we both sat. "You know that since you didn't go out on Saturday, you don't get another chance, right?"

I looked over at him and laughed. "I wasn't aware of that rule, no," I said, my expression fading from a laugh to serious. "I don't care about anything else right now, I'm just happy that you're back. Once I get used to it and can start walking properly again, I might start worrying about little stuff like dates. Until then, you're in luck."

"I thought a lot about you while I was gone."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"What did you think about?"

"How much I don't want you to be part of the team."

"Logan, we discussed this-"

"No, listen to me; I don't want you to be part of the team. Every woman I've ever loved has died, all of 'em way too early. I've nearly lost Marie more times that I can count and if it wasn't for her powers, she'd probably be dead, too. I can't heal you like I can her. You get hurt, you stay hurt, just take a look at your foot."

I shook my head at him. "I stayed submerged in water for over thirty minutes yesterday. _Thirty minutes_. And I'm fine. I think I might have some healing abilities, too."

"No, you stayed alive 'cause of me and Chuck-"

"How did you two keep me alive?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is, you ain't gonna' heal."

"Aside from you and Rogue, none of the team can. That's part of the deal."

"Would you listen to me?"

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"I don't want you doin' it 'cause I don't want you getting' hurt. But I want you to know, I'm pretty proud of you, kid. Is that's what you wanna' do, then you gotta' decide. But I wanna' know for sure that you really want it. 'Cause if you can live without it, then do. I wanna' be selfish and keep you here where I know you'll be safe, even if it means keepin' you from doin' something you wanna' do. But there's a big difference between _wantin_' something and _needin_' it. You tell me this is something you need, you can live without, and you prove it to me, then I'll help you out with anything you want me to do. Alright?"

"Thank you," I said, then went quiet, thinking. He was patient, allowing me to give thought to my reply. "I never _wanted_ to do anything like that growing up. When I was eight, our next door neighbor's son, who was eighteen, joined the army. I remember when they called and told us that he died. My mother broke down and just cried. I was so scared; I never wanted to die like that. I knew it was noble or whatever, but the thought of it terrified me. And I've seen people die fighting in wars I'm not even old enough to remember. Trying to do what they think is right, but they end up dying anyway. I've seen you fight more times than I would like, I've seen you get hurt, and I don't like it. But when I saw those kids in that bus die…something happened. We both know that this isn't just a _hobby_; I'm not just having fun, and this stopped being about self defense a _long_ time ago. I'm not just _good_ at fighting, and I don't know if that's your fault or mine, but it's true. And I feel like if I see it, and I'm _capable_ of doing something, but don't, I'm just as bad as the person doing it."

"Then _do_ something."

"I'm going to. I _need_ to. I know…that I can get hurt, or that I might die, but when it's me or an innocent person, I have more of a chance then they do. I was scared out of my mind and worried about you while you were gone, but I knew that what you were doing was to help people. If something happens to me while I'm doing that, then I can live with it."

"I don't know if I can. I'm supposed to take care of you; I'm your father, that's what I'm supposed to do. I don't know if I can watch you get hurt. If I'm gonna' be fightin' with you, how am I supposed to pay attention to what I'm doin' if I'm worried about you gettin' hurt?"

"Because when the time comes, you're going to know that I can take care of myself, without a doubt, because you taught me how. And when we're out there together, you won't have to worry about me, because you'll know I can do it, I'll know I can, and everything will be okay. It scares me every time I see you leave with the team, but I know you and if there's one thing I have faith in, it's you and knowing what you can do."

"Is that the only thing you have faith in?"

I nodded my head slowly. "Yeah," I said. "It is." I looked away from him. "You're the only thing worth having faith in."

We both sat in silence, watching the light disappear. Silence had never scared him and over time I learned that it was okay not to talk. Although there was never a quiet moment, there was a difference between the noise and his silence. He had taught me that.

And he had taught me that sometimes, words can spoil a special moment.

Sometimes, silence can hold a connection that words can't.

Sometimes, our hearts speak through the quiet and say words we don't know how.

I lay my head on his shoulder, my legs dangling over the edge of the dock and let out a sigh. There are moments in our life where everything seems perfect. For me, it was right then.

* * *

"I know the Little Dipper, and that's it," I said, pointing to the only star constellation that I recognized. Logan and I had stayed out, watching as the stars popped up one by one, covering the sky.

"Don't they teach this sort of stuff in school?" he asked.

We were lying on our backs next to each other on the dock, staring up at the sky. I rested my head against his shoulder. "Well do you know any of them?"

"Yeah?"

"Which ones?"

"The Big Dipper."

I laughed. "Shut up, that doesn't count."

He laughed and I felt it vibrate through him. "I know others, too."

"Like what?"

"How about you tell me your middle name and I'll tell you which ones I know?"

"Hmm…" I said thoughtfully. "Close, but no cigar, furry-face. You still haven't earned it."

He swore. "I made my way all the way from freakin' Brazil to Westchester, New York for you and I _still_ haven't earned it yet?"

"I thought you were dead, I was depressed, that doesn't count as 'earning' anything. That only counts against you because it only made me depressed and suicidal. You're just going to have to try harder." He let out a grunt. "I'll make you a deal."

"What?"

"I want you to teach me how to shoot a gun."

"Why?"

"To shoot things."

"Why do you wanna' shoot things?"

"What if there's a situation where I need to? I want to know how."

"You aim and pull the trigger. Depenin' on what kind of gun you got, it may or may not kick. Just hold it tight, aim and pull."

"I want you to _show_ me how."

"No."

"What about a sword?"

He swore. "Where are you plannin' on goin' that you're gonna' need a sword?"

"I don't know. I'm just thinking," I said. "What about a bow?"

"Don't think I know how to use one."

"A whip?" He looked over at me and gave me the eyebrow. "What?"

"What makes you think I would know how to use one of those?"

I smiled at him sheepishly. "Because you're a very smart man who has a plethora of talents?"

He let out another grunt. "Well, if that's something I know how to use, I don't remember it either. Ro does, I think. You could ask her."

"So no guns, swords, or bows and arrows, but you're going to let Storm teach me how to use a whip?"

"Second thought, no."

I looked over at him. "What? Why?"

"'Cause the last thing I need is Scooter eyein' you and getting' any ideas in his head. There's no tellin' what he's into."

"Dude, I don't want to hear it. That's gross."

"That's why you're not doin' it. He keeps his eye a little too close on you already. Except of course when you're tryin' to _kill_ yourself, then everyone leaves you alone," he said, letting out a small growl.

"Can you…"

"Not talk about that?"

"Sort of. Can you not tell anyone about it? I sort of would prefer if the school _didn't _know I can be a suicidal psycho when I'm depressed."

"You're not psycho."

"Are you sure about that?"

"If you are, you got it from me."

"Wouldn't be the only thing," I said, resting my head back on his shoulder. "Do you remember anything about being a kid?"

He put an arm behind his head, propping it up. "No."

"Nothing?"

He thought for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I remember something. I don't know if it's real or not, though."

"What is it?"

"Uh, me, about twelve or something, wearin' fur pelts, walkin' in the snow. I was livin' with a pack of wolves, huntin' for food. I took down a momma deer. I don't know what she was doin' out in the winter, I don't remember anything but takin' her down. That's it."

"You lived with a pack of wolves?"

"Yeah…I think so."

"Then why are you Wolverine? Shouldn't you be something that has to do with wolves?"

"I didn't pick my name, someone else did."

"Stryker?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Does it bother you that he named you?"

"No, not really."

"Do you regret killing him before you could find out anything about your past?"

"He couldn't help me remember what I wanted. He might've helped me remember who, _what_, I was before he started workin' on me, but that's it," he said. "And _I_ didn't kill him; he died in the flood."

"Do you regret not killing him yourself?"

"A little."

"How much is a little?"

"Whenever I wake up from a dream with him in it."

"So every night?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"What would you have done to him?"

"Ripped him apart, cut him open, just like he did me."

"But you didn't."

"I know."

"Because you're not him."

He kissed me on top of my head. "I know darlin'," he said, pulling me closer to him. "While I was gone, I thought about what we were talkin' about before I left."

"I don't remember what we were talking about."

"Why I had changed my mind about wantin' you."

"Oh, yeah. What about it?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, kid. I know if had to be hard for you growin' up, knowing your momma gave you away, not knowin' who your daddy was, scared that you would do something wrong, screw up and make your parents give you away. I don't know how great of a daddy I would've been for you growin' up, I'm sure they gave you a better childhood than I could've, but you never even had a choice. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Everything turned out how it was meant to."

"I might've been able to've made it better for you, though."

"There's nothing better than what I have right now."

"But-"

"Shut up. You did what you did, you made your decision and that's that. You can't change what you did. But this is now, and this is what matters. You told me once that when you don't remember the past, all you have is now. It doesn't what you did when I was born."

"Did you just tell me to shut up?"

I laughed. "Is that all you got out of that?"

"Afraid so, kid." He smiled down at me as I yawned. "It's late, you wanna' go back home?"

"No, I want to stay out here with you a little longer. I need to have you to myself for just a little while so I can know that you're really back."

"You know I'm not goin' anywhere again, right?"

I nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah, but I'd rather not take a chance."

"You ain't got to. I'm stayin' right here. I ain't gonna' leave you."

"That's what you said before you left for the last mission."

"And I came back."

"But I didn't know if you would."

"But I did," he said, "and that's the point. I'll always come back for you.

I didn't say anything for a minute as I thought. "You know, I yelled at Scott when he told me that you were gone."

"Why?"

"I was mad because you were gone and I just started yelling at him. I told him it was his fault, that he had always hated you and wanted you to die."

"It's probably the truth."

"No it wasn't. I just needed someone to blame, so I blamed him. I also yelled at Hank, too. I think."

He gave a small laugh. "You yelled at _Hank_? I would've loved to've seen that."

I made a small smile. "Hank told me something that made sense when I began yelling at them."

"What?"

"Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."

"What does that mean?"

"That's what I said. He told me that it meant; Even a God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time. I was scared that you were gone because I love you and because of that, I found it hard to think straight. Maybe that's why we do a lot of the things that we do."

"Maybe so, kid. Or maybe we're just crazy. That's my excuse anyway."

"It's a good one." I let out a sigh and curled up tighter to him.

"So you really yelled at McCoy, huh?"

I laughed. "Just a little bit, yeah."

"So what do you do in your spare time; kick puppies and drown kittens?" he said sarcastically.

"Shut up, you jerk." I laughed, noticing my own words being thrown back at me. We both fell quiet after that and I felt myself getting sleepy. "I love you Logan, and I'm glad you're back."

"Love you too, baby," he said, kissing me on top of my head. "Let's go back to the house before you go to seep, all right?"

I nodded drowsily. "Yeah, all right," I said, pushing myself up and standing. "Let's go."

He led u back to the school and I followed him closer than before. The sun had fallen, the only light was the moon, and my senses were on the blink. I followed him blindly, trusting he knew his way. Always trusting him.


	12. Promises

Disclaimer: Jingle bells, jingle bells, I don't own a thing. Sue me if you really must, but you won't get much for your troubles... Okay, so I never said I was a songwriter. I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

"Happy Father's day, furry-face!" I said, holding a box out to Logan.

"What?" he asked dumbly, looking up at me from his book.

"It's Father's Day, I got you a present." I sat down on the bottom of his bed where he was sitting. "Open it," I said.

Days had passed since Logan's return, and although things had gotten better, they certainly hadn't gone back to normal. I still felt the depression of him being gone pressing against my mind, making it hard for me to get out of bed some mornings. Part of me knew he was back, that he was never actually dead. But another part of me _saw_ him die. Something that still haunted me whenever I closed my eyes. I tried, but it was hard to get over the image.

Logan took the box from me and unwrapped it. "Uh," he said, pulling the present from its box.

"It's a tie." I grinned. "Look, it even has the Stooges on it. And the good ones, too. No Curly-Joe."

"Yeah, it sure does," he said.

"You don't like it?"

He looked up at me and for a split second, I saw a glimpse of genuine terror in his eyes. "No, it's great darlin'. Scooter's always raggin' me about what I wear to school stuff, maybe I'll wear this next time."

"I thought it would look nice with your black dress shirt. I thought really hard about it and thought this was perfect."

"Yeah," he said, putting it back in the box. "I'll save it for, uh, something special."

I beamed at him before leaning up and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you like it. I'm going to go down to the dining hall to eat breakfast, are you going to come?"

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute. I'm just gonna' finish up this chapter."

"Okay. Happy Father's day!" I said again cheerfully as I stood from his bed and walked to the door.

"Thanks kid."

I left the room and made my way downstairs. I met Scott at the top of the staircase.

"You seem awfully happy. Care to share?" he asked as I limped down the steps beside him.

"I just gave Logan his present."

He smiled at me. "You didn't."

"Yeah, I did."

"What did he say?"

"He acted like he actually _liked_ it. It's a good thing I didn't mean for it to be serious, he looked completely petrified when he opened it."

"Which one did you go with?"

"The one with the Three Stooges."

"I think I would have gone with 'The World's Greatest Dad' written in crayon, personally."

"I thought about it, but I thought that since he actually likes the Stooges, it would make it seem more like it was his actual present."

"Good point," he said, helping me to step off the last step. "When are you going to give him the real thing?"

"Tonight sometime. I thought I'd make him sweat it out a little, get him to panic some, then give it to him."

He smiled at me. "You're terrible, you know that, right?"

"Hey, it was your idea; I'll just blame it on you."

Scott had taken me shopping the week before for Logan's real present, and thought it would be funny if I gave him a bit of a gag gift first. He had helped me pick out a bunch of cheesy looking ties, of which I bought three to decide on. Aside from being successful in finding Logan's presents, both real and fake, the shopping trip had been fun. Scott and I had spent four hours together, shopping, eating lunch, and goofing off. Yes, Scott Summers and I 'goofed off' at the mall. I really enjoyed spending time with him. Outside of having a crush on Scott, he was also one of my best friends, and it had been a lot of fun to hang out with him.

"Good morning, Jayden. How are you today?" Xavier asked as Scott and I joined him at the staff table along with Storm.

"Good morning, sir. I'm doing well, thank you."

Scott handed me a plate and I began loading it with the fruit that was on the table, wheat toast and eggs. I wanted butter. I wanted salt. I wanted to use my sprained ankle as an excuse to eat a piece of _sausage_. But I behaved myself, minded my diet, and drank my orange juice like a good little girl.

"Good morning everyone," Hank's dignified voice boomed as he walked up to the table, beaming. "How are you all?"

"Good," we all mumbled, our mouths full of food.

"You look very radiant today, Jayden," he said, filling his own plate of food.

"Thank you. Perhaps I should come to the breakfast table in my pajamas more often."

"Perhaps so," he said. "Bacon?"

I made a small whimper. "No."

"One piece won't hurt you."

"If I have a piece today, I'll want one tomorrow."

"It's a holiday."

I smiled at him. I held up one finger. "_One_ piece."

He smiled at me and placed a piece of bacon on my plate as Rogue joined us at the table. "Mornin'," she said, sitting down beside Storm. "Jayden, I saw the present you got Logan; that was really sweet of you."

I forced a small smile at her. "Thanks."

"I think he'll look really nice in it," she said. Scott laughed. "What?"

"Scott was with me when I bought it; he thought it was quite…"

"Humorous," he suggested.

"Shut up," I said, smiling at him.

"Well, I thought it was nice."

"Thought what was nice?" Logan asked, walking to the table.

"The present Jayden got you for Father's Day," Rogue answered.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he said, sitting down beside me.

"Are you and Jayden planning anything special for today?" Storm asked.

"Uh," he said, looking at me.

I shrugged. "I didn't plan anything. I'm sort of new with this. I mean, unless you want me to make you pancakes and go to an art museum with you?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. "That's what I do every year with my dad."

"No, I'm good," he said.

"Your loss," I joked with a smile.

I turned my attention to breakfast and began eating once again. I was mid-chew in a piece of orange when I felt a small pain in my head. I reached up and touched my temple, applying pressure to it, trying to ease the pain.

"Jayden, are you alright?" Professor Xavier asked. I felt like everyone turned to stare at me.

I let my hands rest at my side and looked up at him. "I'm fine, it's just a headache," I said with a forced smile.

"From your powers?" Hank asked.

"Yeah, but everything's fine."

"Are you sure? Do you need to lie down?"

I shook my head. "No. It's been doing this for a while. Just give it a few minutes and I'll be okay again."

"What is it doing?"

"I don't know. It's like I'm all right one minute, and then all of a sudden, there are a hundred different visions in my head all at once. They back up and I can't tell what's important and what's not. It takes a few minutes to sort them out and while it does, it gives me a headache."

"You've never mentioned it before," Xavier said. "Why haven't you brought it up in any of our sessions?"

My head still hurt and it was hard to concentrate, but I tried. "It's not really a problem, sir. I didn't want to bother you with it."

"That's what our sessions are for; so that we can discuss your mutation and its growth, as well as what you need to work on. You wouldn't be _bothering_ me with anything."

"We can talk about it next week, then," I said, putting pressure on my temples once again. I took deep breaths, trying to breathe through the pain that was still there. I felt Logan's hand on my back. I looked over at him. He looked concerned. I smiled at him. "I'm fine," I whispered.

But he didn't move his hand, he left it there as a quiet comfort, showing that he was there and he cared. That's how he always was. Silent, but present. There was nothing more I could ask of him.

* * *

"Hey," I said, sliding into the seat next to Logan on the couch in the den. It was empty, with the exceptions of Logan and me.

"Hey," he said back. He looked at me over the top of his book. He cocked his eyebrow at me. "What're you up to?"

I gave him my best innocent look. "What do you mean? Why do I have to be up to anything? What if I just want to spend what's left of Father's Day _with_ my father? I mean, does _that_ seem like I'm up to something?"

"No," he said. "The way you're lookin' at me does."

"And how am I looking at you?"

"Like you've got a secret." He lowered his book. "So what is it?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?"

"Yep," I said, smiling at him.

"What're you smilin' about?"

"Nothing."

He raised his eyebrow higher at me. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking about the present I got you."

"What about it?"

"Do you _really_ like it?"

"Yeah, it's the Stooges."

"But you would have been happier with another gift, wouldn't you?"

He put the book down on the arm of the cough and turned towards me. "You want me to be honest with you?"

I nodded. "Always."

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through the back of his hair. "I didn't expect you to get me anything. I didn't even know what today was. So just the fact that you got me _something_ is more than I was expectin'."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Good." I pulled a box from the seat beside me. "But that wasn't your real gift. This is," I said, handing it to him.

I didn't think his eyebrow could go any higher. I was wrong. "What?" he asked, looking quite confused.

"The tie was just a joke. _This_ is your real present."

"A joke?"

"Dude, do you actually think I would seriously buy you a tie? What would you do with it? Hang yourself?"

A small smile snuck across his mouth, tugging at the corner of his lip, turning it up in a smirk. "You got me."

"You're a dad now; you have to own at least _one_ embarrassingly, hideously ugly tie. I mean, you have some pretty bad shirts, but they're just not the same. You are now fully initiated into fatherhood," I joked. "Go on, open the real thing now."

He eyed the present suspiciously before finally opening it. When he had it unwrapped and could see what it was, he smiled at me and nodded his head approvingly. "The Godfather trilogy. Not bad, kid."

"Better than the crappy old tie?"

"Much better."

"Good. I'm glad you like it."

He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "Thanks."

"No problem," I said, just as Rogue walked in.

"Logan, do you know how to fix showers?" she asked.

"What's wrong? Is yours busted?"

"I don't know, I think so. The showerhead ain't workin'."

He stood from the couch, abandoning me for her. "Were you gonna' take a shower now?"

"I was goin' to, yeah."

"You can use mine for tonight and I'll see if I can't get yours fixed. Okay?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling up at him. "Thanks Logan."

"Don't thank me yet, darlin'; I ain't worked on plummin' in a while, I might not be able to fix it."

"No, but you're lettin' me use yours."

He smiled at her. "It ain't a problem."

As they left the den together, I had an overwhelming urge to jump up and down, scream, and rip his book apart. But I didn't. I just sat there quietly. Angry.

"I didn't expect to see you here; I thought you'd be with Logan," Hank said, entering the den with a box of Twinkies.

"I _was_ with him."

"What happened?"

"Rogue happened."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Her shower is busted or something, so he's gone to fix it for her."

"Which…upsets you?" he asked, sitting down beside me.

"Dang Skippy."

He laughed. I looked over at him. "Sorry," he apologized. "You just sounded so much like him when you said that." I gave a small growl. "And you _really_ sound like him when you do that."

"Why does he act like that?" I asked, crossing my arms, pouting slightly.

"Do you not act the same way around Scott?"

"No."

"Really?"

"I don't leave him to go hang out with Scott. I don't completely ignore him when Scott's around. But Rogue comes around, says one thing to him, and off he goes like a lost little puppy. It's pathetic and sad."

"Don't be mad at him."

"Why not? It's supposed to be our day."

"And you've spent most of it together, have you not?"

I let out a sigh. "Yeah."

"And he didn't leave because he didn't want to spend anymore time with you, he left so that he could fix Rogue's shower. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said reluctantly.

He pulled me to him. "So don't be mad at him, okay?"

I made a small whining sound. "Okay."

He hugged me tight, petting my hair. "Everything gets better with time," he said.

"That's not true, though. Sometimes things get worse."

"_This_ will get better."

I snuggled up to him closer. "I hope so." I let out a sigh. "Hank, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did you come up with your name, Beast?"

"It was a nicknamed I had in high school. I was this size at fifteen, and playing football. Of course I wasn't blue or covered in fur then, but my size and force earned me the nickname 'Beast'. I was never fond of it when I was younger, but when I joined the X-Men I needed a codename and thought it was as good as anything else," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"Thinking of your own name?"

"Yeah, a little bit."

"It will come to you in time."

"You're all about time, aren't you?" I laughed.

"Yes, it's the one thing that remains the same. Never changing, always there."

"Way to be upbeat, McCoy," I joked.

"I did once read, Every hour wounds, the last one kills."

"Where did you read that?"

"A sundial."

I laughed. "Wow. I didn't think you were _that_ old, Hank."

He laughed. "I'm not. I read it on one that I saw once when I was in Rome years ago."

"I want to go to Rome."

"Perhaps one day the two of us could go."

"That would be fun," I said. "Or maybe if there's ever a mission there, I can go."

"Are you quite sure that you really want to be part of the team?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I am. If you could see what I see, then you would understand. There's a reason why I have this mutation, there's a reason for my powers."

"With great power comes great responsibility."

I sat up and looked at him. "I know that quote!" I said excitedly. "Uncle Ben said that to Peter Parker in Spiderman."

He smiled at me. "Yes, that's true, but the quote goes back to the eighteen hundreds. Winston Churchill even once quoted it in a speech he gave during World War Two."

My excitement fell. "Why do I never know these things?"

"You're only eighteen-"

"Almost nineteen-"

"And you have plenty of time to learn all of these…useless things."

"They're not useless. You know every question and answer on 'Jeopardy' and 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?' You're the smartest person I know."

He smiled at me. "And you are the sweetest."

I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," I said, then rested my head on his shoulder.

"Jayden, may I ask you a question, and I want you to answer it quite honestly."

"Yeah," I said. "Whatever you want."

"When you first saw me, were you not slightly…scared?"

"No," I answered. "I was…taken aback by you, a little surprised because I had never seen anyone like you before. I found you fascinating, and from the moment I heard you speak, I was in love with your voice. You reminded me of a big teddy bear. I wanted to give you a hug." I laughed. "But no, I was never scared of you. Interesting, yes, scary." I shook my head. "No, not scary."

"Good, I'm glad."

"Although that day you and Logan were arguing in the hall, you looked pretty fierce."

He laughed. "Yes, I suppose that must have been quite a shock."

"Just a little," I said. "But I don't think you're a complete softy, or anything. From what I hear, you can be pretty mean and hold your own when you need to."

"We all have our moments when our tempers rise."

"Some of us just have worse tempers than others."

"You?"

"Yeah. If you piss me off, I can get pretty mad."

"That's another thing you get from your father."

I smiled. "No, Logan _stays_ pissed off. It it's not one thing, it's another."

"That's not entirely true. He usually seems quite happy with you."

"Or _Rogue_."

He patted my back. "Now now, don't get mad at her. Neither of them can help how they feel."

"No, but they can stop making gooey eyes at each other when I'm around. It's disgusting."

"It'll get better." He kissed me on top of my head. "I promise."

I fell into his hold on me and closed my eyes, hoping he was right.

* * *

Two men were carrying me. I had never seen them before. One had a hold of my wrists, the other my ankles, and together they carelessly moved me through a dark, dank hall. Finally, they reached a room, it was dark too, but I could see the concrete floor and the high metal beams that grew from the floor, reaching as high up as my eyes could see. I assumed they attached to the ceiling as well. Without warning or much concern, they both let their grips go, dropping me on the cold, hard ground.

I woke with a gasp, trying to catch my breath.

"Hey, you okay?"

I looked up and saw Logan standing just a few feet from me. I shook my head. "I saw something."

"What?"

"I don't know." My head hurt. "It felt real, but it felt like a dream too; that's never happened before."

"You need me to get Chuck or something?"

"No, don't, don't uh…what time is it?"

"After ten."

I shook my head. "No, don't wake him."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll talk to him about it in the morning." My breath was still shaking and my head was still hurting, and I was confused. "What happened? Why are you in here?"

"You fell asleep in the den with Hank and I carried you up here." He walked closer to me. "You gonna' be alright?"

"I don't know."

"You want me to stay with you?" I tried catching my breath, but it was ragged. "Do you want me to get Hank?"

"No, I'll be fine, just give me a second."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" he repeated.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked up at him. "Yeah, if you don't mind. Just for a while. Please?"

"Yeah, alright," he said, sitting down in the chair beside my bed. "Do you need me to do anything for you?"

"I don't know."

He furrowed his brow. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," I said again, shaking my head. "I feel a little sick."

"Maybe you should lay back down."

I nodded. "Yeah, probably," I said, lying down in my bed. I turned on my side so that I could face him. "I think something's wrong."

He leaned in towards me. "What?"

"I don't know. I just think something bad might happen."

"I ain't gonna' let anything happen to you, alright? I'm gonna' take care of you, I told you that, and I'm not lyin'. You're gonna' be fine. You just had a bad dream, and when you wake up tomorrow, you won't even remember it."

"I barely remember it now," I said. "That's what's so odd. I usually remember everything I see, vision or not. But this felt like it barely passed my mind. I just remember concrete floors, high rusty metal beams, and cold water dripping on me."

"You felt _what_?"

I sat back up. I shook my head, disbelieving. "The Professor said I was getting those from Jean, but I'm not. I saw _me_. I felt it happening to _me_."

"You said you didn't know if it was a vision or not, though. It could've been a dream, right?"

"I don't know," I said confused.

He stood. "I'm gettin' the Professor."

"No," I said, reaching my hand up to stop him. He grabbed it.

"If it's just a dream, then oh well, you can go back to sleep. But if it was a vision, he needs to read your mind and see what you saw."

"I don't want to bother him, he's probably asleep."

"I'll wake him up. He needs to be here."

I nodded. "Okay," I said quietly, reluctantly.

"I'll be right back, darlin'."

As soon as he left my room, shutting the door behind him, I bowed my head, holding it in my hands. "What's wrong with me?" I breathed out. "What's wrong?"


	13. Failing Us

Disclaimer: I own the rights to nothing except for the mistakes I undoubtedly made. But they are mine. Comments are adored and welcomed. I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

"Jayden, I'm afraid there's no trace of a vision or a dream involving what you described. I'm not quite sure what happened, but I don't see anything," Professor Xavier said. He was in my room along with Logan, Hank and Scott.

"So what did she see?" Logan asked. "'Cause she saw something; I was in here when she woke up."

"I don't know what she saw, Logan. As I said; there is no trace in her mind of anything like she described," Xavier answered. "I suppose what she saw could have been a vision intended for someone else, and somehow passed through her."

"No, _I_ was in it. It was of _me_. Who could it have it been intended for if it was _of_ me?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know."

"So what're we supposed to do?" Logan asked. "She thinks something bad's gonna' happen to her, but she don't know or remember what. How're we gonna' stop it from happenin' if we don't even know what's _supposed_ to happen?"

"Don't scare her," Scott said. "It doesn't matter _what_ it is, we're not going to let anything happen to her. We're going to protect you Jayden, don't worry about anything."

"I'm not tryin' to scare her; I'm just bein' real and honest about the situation. Or would you prefer me to candy coat it for her?"

"Gentlemen, I think it would be best if we didn't talk about this right now." Hank said. "Arguing isn't going to help anything."

"I don't understand what's going on," I said, looking at the Professor.

"I'm afraid I don't either. I'm very sorry."

I forced a small smile at me. "Don't be. You're doing everything you can." I took his hand. "Thank you, I really appreciate this."

He gave me a kind warm smile. "Anything to help." He raised my hand and gave it a small kiss before patting it. "You should try to get some sleep. Perhaps we can understand this all a bit better in the morning."

I let out a sigh. "Yes sir, you're probably right. I'm sorry that you had to get out of bed for this."

"It's not a problem. Get some sleep and we'll speak tomorrow."

I nodded. "Thank you. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight Jayden."

He left my room, leaving me with Logan, Hank and Scott.

"I'm screwed up, aren't I? I mean, that's what's wrong with me, isn't it? What mutant learns to control their powers and then goes back to not even understanding the most basic things? I've known how to tell the difference between my vision and dreams since I began having them when I was three or four. I've never gotten them confused, and I've never forgotten them. But that's just me, isn't it? Broken somehow, and completely screwed up."

"You're not screwed up," Scott said.

"Well, maybe a little," Logan said. We all looked at him. "Hey, look who her father is. You expect her to not have _some_ kinda' problem?" I smiled genuinely and he winked at me.

"So it's all your fault then?" I asked. I nodded. "That's good to know."

"You're just having a bad day is all," Hank said. "I've told you before; sometimes our mutations fail us. I believe you know that."

I looked down at my foot wrapped in an ace bandage. "Yeah, I know that. But this isn't misjudging a landing from a building, it's-"

"Much safer," he said. "Jumping from a building and misjudging your landing can, as you've proven, end in injury, or worse. Not being able to discern between dreams and your visions is-"

"Embarrassing. It's something I've always known how to do. What if suddenly _you_ couldn't tell the difference between your dreams and reality? What if you couldn't do some of the simplest, most basic things in your every day life? You didn't know how to tie your shoe, brush your teeth, use a fork? As a matter of a fact, I knew the difference between my dreams and visions _before_ I knew how to tie my shoes. It's always been easy. Now I'm confused? I don't know how to handle that, because I've never had to."

"As with everything; you take this day by day," Hank said.

"No, I'm not going to take this 'day by day'," I snapped.

"It's going to be fine. Everything will work itself out," Scott said.

I shook my head. "No it won't."

"Why are you so scared?" Logan asked. My eyes snapped up and met his. He was the only one of them who had picked up on the fact that I was scared.

"Because I don't know what's going on," I said quietly. "I thought I had almost gotten it completely under control and now I'm starting to go backwards again. When you were gone, I had a vision of you dying, and I didn't know if it had happened already or not but I had been that way for a long time, I was used to it. But now I don't even know if what I saw was _real_. I barely even remember it, and what I do remember is of feelings that I've been having for months now that the Professor's never been able to peg. He told me where he thought they were coming from, but he was never sure. I'm confused. I should be used to it by now, but I'm not, and _that's_ why I'm scared."

"Maybe you just need to get some sleep," Scott said.

"Is there a _reason_ why you're in here?" Logan asked, turning to him. "'Cause you sure ain't helpin'."

"Logan," I said.

"_I'm_ not the one who's scaring her," Scott said.

"Scoot," Hank warned.

"No, you're the one who's bein' condescendin', actin' like she's too dumb to know the truth."

"Logan," I said a little louder. He ignored me.

"I'm not being condescending, or treating her like she's dumb, it's called being sensitive. It's almost eleven at night, she's tired and she's been upset enough today without picking on her and telling her to stop showing emotion, like you."

"Scoot," Hank said once again, his tone growing firm.

Logan growled. "You don't think I show emotion? How about I show you _this_ one," he said, popping the claws on his right hand.

"Logan!"

"What?" he barked.

"If the two of you are going to fight, do it somewhere else, because I'm not going to put up with it in here. But if anyone gives a care about what I want, then I would prefer if the two of you didn't fight at all. My nerves are shot and the last thing I need to worry about is you two fighting."

The two of them stood facing each other for a few moments longer before Logan finally pulled his claws back.

"I'm sorry," Scott said to me. "Goodnight Jayden, I hope you sleep well."

"Thank you Scott, goodnight."

He gave Logan a small glance before exiting my room.

"Perhaps I should leave you as well," Hank said. "Jayden, Logan, I shall see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Night Hank," I said quietly, watching him leave. He closed the door behind him with a soft 'click'.

I pulled my feet up onto my bed and hugged my legs, resting my chin on my knees.

"I'm sorry," Logan said after a few minutes.

"It's not your fault," I said. "You didn't want this for tonight."

"No, but neither did you."

"Did you get Rogue's shower fixed?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Did you call and talk to your father today?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "Good." More silence. "I can't believe you snapped at Hank like that."

I smiled at him. "Shut up."

"I thought you were gonna' take his head off. I've never seen you get so pissed at anyone. Except for me."

"I didn't get that pissed off. Stop exaggerating."

"Your face turned red."

"It did not!"

"Yeah it did."

"You're such a liar."

"You're callin' me a liar? I saw it. Your whole face turned about as red as your cheeks usually do whenever Summers is around."

"You are such a jerk."

"I'm just tellin' you the truth, kid." I smiled at him and shook my head. I let out a heavy sigh. "You know I love you, right?" he asked.

I looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah. I know."

"And you know that if anything ever happens, I'm gonna' take care of you? That I'm always gonna' come get you. You know that, right?"

"You've always taken care of me; I have no reason to believe you wouldn't now."

"Good," he said. "Then I want you to go to sleep and not worry about anything, 'cause I ain't gonna' let anyone hurt you."

"Okay."

"Okay." He opened my door. "Night darlin'." He turned my light out as he stepped out of my room.

"Logan."

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Don't leave me."

He stepped back in and closed the door behind him. "Alright."

I knew he would protect me no matter what happened, but right then I needed him there with me, and he understood that.

He knew I was scared and even though he said everything he could to try to ease my fear, he also knew that sometimes, it doesn't take words. He knew that because he was the one who had taught it to me. The touch of his hand was all I needed to feel safe and as I fell asleep that night, he allowed me to have it.

"Night Logan," I whispered.

"Night baby."

I needed him. And he knew that.

* * *

"Jayden my dear, you were just the person I was looking for," Hank said, smiling as he entered the gym where Logan and I were working out. "I need to know what kind of cake you want for your birthday next week."

I had been well over a month since my little episode with my vision, and it hadn't happened since. My foot had healed completely and I had gone back to working out again. Things finally felt like they were starting to get back to normal.

"I don't want a cake," I said, leaning up against the weight bench.

"Well what do you want?"

"Nothing."

"What? Why not?"

"I don't _need_ anything."

"It's your birthday, you're turning nineteen, surely you can have _one_ piece of cake."

I thought about it, looking from Hank to Logan. "Don't look at me, kid. I think this whole diet thing you got goin' on is stupid in the first place."

"Thanks for being supportive," I said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes at him.

"No problem."

I let out a sigh. "All right, I'll have a cake."

"What kind?"

"Chocolate with chocolate icing."

"Whoa, you better watch it; you might get fat," Logan joked. I shot him a look and smirked at me.

Hank gave me a smile. "I do believe I can make that for you. I'll go to the store sometime this week to get everything for it."

"Thank you, Hank."

"You're welcome," he said before leaving.

I turned on Logan. "Why do you have to pick on me? Does it make you _happy_ to see me annoyed? Do you _enjoy_ pissing me off?"

"Only when Scooter's not around to pick on."

"You are so immature," I said.

"And you're just like me," he replied.

"Yes, but I'm not even nineteen yet and you're two hundred and something. There's a difference."

"You don't know that."

"Don't know what?"

"That I'm two hundred and something."

I rolled my eyes. "Semantics, dude. The point is; you're old." He face twisted. "What is it?"

"Chuck. We got a mission down in Virginia."

"Great," I said dryly.

"Hey, this is what you're signin' up for, remember that."

"I know," I said. "I just hate it when you leave."

"It's only an overnighter. We'll be back tomorrow."

"Alright. Be careful, have fun, beat bad guys and don't fight with Scott too much."

"'Ro's leadin', Scott's stayin' here."

"Okay, don't fight too much with…'Ro, then." He cocked his head at me. "That somehow doesn't work, does it?"

"No."

I nodded my head. "Okay, just…be careful."

He kissed me on top of my head. "I will be. Take care of yourself until I get back, all right."

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Bye darlin'."

"Bye." I sat down on the weight bench and let out a sigh. I looked around at the empty gym. "Well," I said to myself. "This is pointless."

* * *

"Hey, where have you been hiding?"

"Hey Ben," I said, slowing down my running to a stop. After Logan left, I had decided to go out for a run. I smiled at him. "I sprained my ankle a while back. It was only supposed to take about three weeks to heal, but I'm not very good at following doctor's orders and it took a little longer than expected."

"Well if you didn't want to go out with me, you could have just told me; you didn't have to sprain your ankle as an excuse."

I laughed. "Yeah, I should probably work on that, huh?"

He smiled. "So you're all better now?"

"Uh, yeah, pretty much."

"Good. I think I would go crazy if I couldn't run every day."

"Yeah, it was pretty bad," I said. "Look, I'm sorry I skipped out on our date. I would've called and told you what was going on, but I didn't have your number. I'm really sorry."

"No, don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're doing better."

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Did you talk to your dad about going out with me sometime, though?"

"Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"Well, he said yeah, but…it's sort of difficult right now. We're going through a bit of a rough patch, both of us, and it would probably be best if we waited to go out. I need to spend time with him and focus on some other stuff right now."

He looked at me and I felt a pain in the pit of my stomach. "Yeah, okay," he said, looking upset.

"Sorry. It's just that right now I need to get my priorities in order."

"I understand," he said, but his tone and facial expression didn't match the words.

The pain in my stomach grew worse. "I'm sorry, I have to go. My uh…ankle, is starting to hurt and I should really go have our doctor back at the school check it out. I think I've put too much pressure on it too soon," I lied. "Maybe when it gets better we can meet up and get together or something."

"Yeah, maybe."

"All right, I'll see you later," I said, then turned and began walking in the direction of the school. Once he was out of sight, I began running. Something didn't feel right and I wanted to get home as soon as possible.

* * *

"Professor, may I have a word with you?" I asked, entering Xavier's office.

"Yes, have a seat," he said.

I was still in my work out clothes and felt sweaty, but I wanted to talk to him as soon as I could. I sat down in the seat in front of his desk, directly across from him. "Sir, I was out running just now and I was speaking to a boy that I met a few months ago and something didn't feel…right. I felt something in my gut."

"Your intuition?"

"Sort of, but…I don't know. I felt like a _physical_ pain, too. There was just something wrong, something I had never felt from him before."

"How many times have you met him?"

"I don't know. A couple or three, maybe? I'm not real sure."

"Could there have been a reason for your uneasiness?"

"Feel like picking my brain?"

He gave me a small smile. "Perhaps later. Right now I'm interested in hearing your perspective of why you may have felt that way."

I let out a sigh. "He asked me out right before I sprained my ankle and I never had the chance to cancel it. When we spoke about it, I told him that I wasn't going to be able to go out with him because I needed to get my priorities right and focus. He said it was fine, but he seemed other than that, he seemed quite upset actually. That's when I started feeling odd."

"Has he ever seemed violent or harmful in any way before?"

I shook my head. "No, but when Logan met him, he didn't like him. But Logan doesn't like most people, so it didn't really surprise me. And I expected him to hate anyone that I was interested it. Plus that day we had been arguing and we were mad at each other. He said something felt wrong about him, but _I'm_ clairvoyant, _I'm_ the one with the strong intuition, it's my _mutation_." I shook my head. "Could something have _changed_? I mean, why wouldn't I have gotten that feeling before?"

"I'm not sure."

I let out a sigh, then gave him a small smile. "Do you ever get tired of people coming to you with their problems?"

"No. I feel quite honored, actually. Even if I don't always have the answer, it's flattering for people to think I do."

My smile widened. "But wouldn't you prefer for people to just _talk_ to you, without coming to you with a problem?"

"I do have visitors who drop in just for a chat, but I think you may understand that when you are connected to so many people at once, that the few moments of solitude you may get in a day are very welcomed."

I nodded. "Yes sir, I do understand that. Very much so, actually. There's a lot of times when I've wished for more of it, to not have to hear and see things so much. To be in my own mind, by myself."

"Ah, but it's that which makes us mutants, what sets us apart from a normal human. Most of us seem to forget that that they are gifts, rather than curses, and that we should be thankful for them, rather than take them for granted."

"Sometimes it's hard for us to remember that, though."

"But it's imperative that we do."

I nodded. "Well sir, I'll leave you to yourself," I said standing.

"I apologize that I couldn't help you more. If you would like to speak with me about it again at a later time, you're more than welcome to."

"Yes sir, if I think of anything else that might be helpful, I'll tell you. Until then, I'll just stay away from him. I really appreciate you listening to me."

"It's my pleasure," he said. I walked to the door. "Oh, and Jayden, you don't have to wait until you have a problem to come speak to me. You're always welcome to talk to me about anything you want."

I smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"Have a good afternoon."

"You too."

I left the Professor's office with a pain still in my gut. I wondered if it even had anything to do with Ben at all. Or if maybe something was actually wrong with Logan.

* * *

I woke up with a jolt. I felt something. I looked around the darkness of my room with heightened senses.

Logan was home.

I stood from my bed and made my way out of my room. I walked down the hall silently with ease. I was nearing Logan's door when I heard his voice. It was in a hushed tone, but still I heard it.

"It wasn't that bad. 'Ro's doin' pretty good as team leader, and she made the call she had to make."

"I still don't like the thought of you gettin' hurt," I heard Marie's voice say.

"Hey, I healed and I'm back in one piece. There's nothing for you to worry about."

There was a pause. "Can I stay in here with you tonight?"

"Yeah, come on."

He had told her he was back before he had told me. I tried to turn and go back down the hall as quietly as before, but somehow, halfway back, I tripped. I recovered from it and was successfully to my bedroom door when I heard another open.

"Jayden, are you all right?"

I turned and saw Scott standing in his doorway wearing his pajamas. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said quietly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's fine," he said. "What are you doing awake?"

"I uh…I had a bad dream. I was going to talk to Logan, but he just got back, so I'm sure he's tired. Didn't have the heart to wake him up," I lied.

"Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"Um…no, no, I think I'll be okay. You know how dreams are; you start to forget them pretty soon after you wake up."

He smiled. "Are you sure?"

I thought about it. I really didn't want to go back to sleep right then. I looked down at Logan's door. "Yeah, alright."

I abandoned my door and walked over to his. I entered his room and found an armchair to sit in. "So tell me, what's on your mind?" said with a grin, sitting down on his bed facing me.

I smiled at him. "Quite a bit, actually."

"Feel like sharing?"

I turned my head to the side. "You don't want to hear it."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

I studied him. "Why are men the way that they are?"

He shook his head, but continued to smile. "I somehow wasn't expecting that," he said.

"Sorry."

"No, no, I asked. Uh…well…why are men how we are in general, or is there something specific that you're thinking about?"

I shrugged. "Just in general."

"Well…I'm not real sure, I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault."

"Are you thinking of someone?" I looked away from him. "You are, aren't you? Is it Logan?"

I smiled. "Logan's not really a man; he's more of an animal." I paused. "Although he seems to have been tamed here lately."

"I think that one _is_ your fault."

"Not mine," I said. "Rogue's."

"I wouldn't give her that much credit; Rogue's a lot like him now, she can't really help it, though, with all of him in her head."

"Maybe," I looked up at him. "People tell me I'm a lot like him, do you think I am?"

"Yeah, I do," he said and I looked away again. "But I don't think you _are_ him. You're a different person than who I met last December when I invited you here. I thought you looked like him, and I still do, but you didn't remind me of him so much. I see now that you _are_ a lot like him, though. You don't have _as_ bad of a temper, you're not anti-social, you're not quite as sarcastic as he is. But you're driven, and strong, you have your own opinions. Considering who he is, you actually turned out rather well."

I laughed. "Thanks."

"I know you get mad at him about the whole Rogue sometimes, but you really shouldn't. As much as I don't like him, I can look at him when he's with you and I know he's trying. He's still getting used to being a father and I think he's doing the best he knows how. So try to cut him some slack."

"Wow."

"What?"

"There's something I never thought I'd hear you say."

"And it doesn't leave this room, okay?" he said, smiling.

I nodded. "Okay," I said, then thought. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"How did you come up with the name Cyclops?" He stared at me through his visor. "Never mind; stupid question."

He laughed. "No, it's fine."

I shook my head. "No, that came out really wrong. I meant did _you_ come up with it, or did someone else?"

"Well, it depends. A lot of people probably called me that before, but I never heard them. It's not really very original, but it was fitting, so I decided to go with it." He gave me a half smile. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I think you're more than just curious?"

"Really, do you?" I asked with a smile.

"Yeah, I think you're wondering what you should do about yours."

I let out a frustrated and dramatic sigh. "I don't know what to do about it. My mutation has no nifty little names for it. I mean, I see things, yeah. I…move…oddly, like a cat, but there's nothing I can think of."

"Well, if you can't come up with one for yourself, then someone else will have to come up with one for you."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Okay, do you have one for me?"

"Yeah."

"Really? I'm quite interested to hear this one."

"You ready?"

I curled up in his armchair. "I'm all ears." I smiled.

"Okay, are you really ready?"

"I just said I was."

"How about…Lynx." I furrowed my brow. "You don't like it, do you?"

"No, it's just…I'm a little confused."

"By what?"

"What a Lynx is."

"Well…it's a type of cat and in some cultures is closely related to clairvoyancy. Which is great because you move like a cat and you're clairvoyant."

"Lynx." I smiled at him and nodded. "I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I said. "It might take me a while to get used to having it, but yeah; I like it."

"Good."

"Just out of sheer curiosity, how much time did you put into coming up with that name, exactly?"

He smiled slyly. "Why? Do you think I didn't just know that bit of information off hand?"

"No, I don't."

"Okay, you caught me," he said. "I was thinking about it a few weeks ago and did some research."

"You were thinking about _me_ and decided that you would spend some of your own personal time to do research on a name that would suit me?" He continued to smile. "Have you ever thought of maybe getting a hobby?"

He laughed. "Hobbies usually cost money. You're cheap," he said, immediately going as red as his ruby quartz visor. "That's not how I meant that, I'm sorry. That was terrible. I honestly didn't mean it like that, I promise."

"I think you did mean it like that, Mr. Summers. I think _you_ think that I'm a brazen hussy."

"Did you just say 'brazen hussy'? You know, I felt bad until said that. I wasn't aware that we were in the nineteen forties."

I laughed. "Shut up," I said jokingly. "Remember; you're the one that called me cheap."

"And apparently thinks that you're a 'brazen hussy'."

"So you admit it; you _do_ think that?"

"How did we get to this?"

"We were discussing your lack of productive hobbies and activities," I said. "Then you called me cheap."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that hobbies are time consuming and costly, not to mention unfulfilling. But spending time with or thinking of you costs me nothing and is far more rewarding."

I pretended to ponder the thought for a moment. "Alright Slim, you're off the hook."

"Did you just call me 'Slim'?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I'm just clarifying." He smiled.

"Alright, good." I lay my head against the back of the chair and yawned. We both sat quietly for a few minutes.

I looked over at him. He was slouching forward, propping himself up on his thighs, using his forearms. He wore a pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt, with his visor. I couldn't see his eyes and was still amazed by how much emotion he could convey without them. I thought he looked gorgeous. His chiseled jaw. His dimples. The side of him that felt like he only allowed for me to see. I had never been in love with anyone before, but I was sure that it couldn't get much better than what I felt for him.

"Jayden," he started, breaking our silence. "This may seem a bit off topic, but there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"What?"

He let out a sigh as he sat up straight. "I have…some of Jean's thing that I put away a while back. I couldn't get rid of it, but I couldn't look at it either. There's quite a few books and I thought you might like to maybe read some of them? I mean, some of them are medical books that you might not be interested in, but you can have them. If you want?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I can hold on to them for you. And I'll take care of them, too. I promise."

He gave me a small, honest smile. Something I hadn't seen from him since I had met him. To a point, it was painfully honest, because it was from him acknowledging Jean's death. "I know you will," he said. "That's why I want you to have them."

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't. Because if I had learned anything from Logan, it was that sometimes, silence spoke volumes that we could not.


	14. Growing Closer

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or Fox, because if I did then I would have money and I would be able to buy people Christmas presents. As of right now, I'm scrapping together everything I have to hopefully be able to buy some gifts for my family. A big thank you to my brother who did a check for me to make sure I hadn't screwed up the driving intruction part of the story. I personally don't drive, but have a pretty good general idea of how it's done, and I appreciate my brother Mikey for making sure I didn't make a complete fool of myself. I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

"What do you want for your birthday?" Logan asked. He had been back for two days and we had just finished our morning meditation.

"I want you to teach me how to drive."

"That's not a present."

"But that's what I want."

"I can teach you how to do that, but what kind'a _present_ do you want?"

"I don't know. I have everything I want."

"_Everything_?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much."

"You gotta' give me something to work with, darlin'."

"Dude, I don't know."

"Fine, I'll just get Marie to help me." I hadn't mentioned that I had heard Rogue in his room the night he had come home. So he had no idea that I knew he had told her he was back before me. I hadn't even mentioned that I was mad at him. As far as I knew, he thought everything was fine. "What was that?"

"What was what?" I asked, listening for something he may have heard.

"You just made a face."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah you did."

"What kind of face?"

"I don't know. I said Marie's name and you made a face. Why?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know I made one," I lied.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

He tried to get me to crack, but since we had met, I had gotten better at lying. He didn't know this; he just thought I had stopped. "Why would I make a face at you saying her name? That doesn't make sense," I lied again. "And besides, if I _did_ make a face, which I'm not entirely sure I did, why would you assume it was at her rather than _you_?"

"Me?"

"Surely you have to understand how the thought of you going shopping would be amusing."

"Alright, fair enough."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So when are you going to teach me how to drive?"

He gave me his trademark smirk. "You got any plans for this afternoon?"

* * *

"Put your foot on the clutch and hold it down while turnin' on the ignition."

"Which one's the clutch again?"

Logan looked over at me from the passenger's seat in one of the school's old cars. We were in an empty parking lot later that day. My first lesson in driving had only just started. "It's beside the break."

"Right…which one's the break?"

"You're jokin' right?"

"Yeah," I said with a nervous laugh. "Sort of."

He ran his hand back through his hair and let out a deep sigh. "Clutch, break, gas. In that order. Got it?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Now hold the clutch down…no, with your left foot…left, kid…you're _left_, that's your right… Okay, now turn the key over and start the ignition. No, start it, don't just turn it over, you have to actually start the engine for it to go…alright, good… Why did you let off the clutch? Now you gotta' start it all over again… Okay, keep the clutch down this time and shift it into first. Yeah…no, that's second, I said first…right, there you go. You let off the clutch again. You gotta' keep it down until I tell you, alright? Now put it in neutral and start again. Good…good…put it in first…good. All right, now ease your foot on the gas as your easin' your foot off the clutch… No, that's the break, the one _beside_ it. I told you; clutch, break, gas. Yeah, _that_ one. There's only three of 'em, and if your other foot's already on one and that one ain't right, it's gotta' be the other one. Right, now just ease onto the gas while you're slowly easin' off the clutch. It's like walkin' up steps; if one foot's down, the other one's up, waitin' for the next step…don't make that face, it's a good analogy. Just move your feet like I told you. Easy…easy… All right, now we're movin'. Just go slow…slow…slow! You just popped the clutch and killed it… Now start again."

* * *

"How did your driving lesson go?" Scott asked as Logan and I walked into the main foyer of the school that evening.

"I'm never driving again," I said.

"Hey, it's not my fault," Logan said.

"Well it didn't really help that you were yelling."

"I yelled once-"

"Twice-"

"And it was 'cause you were about to hit some old woman."

"She was like, ten feet away from me."

"If by 'away from you' you mean right in front of you, the yeah; she was. _That's_ why I yelled."

"And you kept getting mad when I didn't go the way you wanted. We were in an empty parking lot-"

"Except for the old woman, and you kept turnin' right."

"Why does it matter?"

"I told you to go left."

"Why take a left when you can take three rights?" He stared at me. "I don't know why you put me in a stick shift anyway. I could have learned to drive an automatic much easier."

"First of all, don't blame your lack of knowin' the difference in your left and right on it bein' a straight shift; that's a good car. And second, you need to know how to drive one."

"Why?"

"If something happens and that's the only car around, you need to know how to drive it. 'Sides, once you learn how to drive a stick, an automatic ain't gonna' be a problem at all."

"Yeah, I'm just going to stick with 'never driving again'."

"So it went well, then?" Scott said.

I let out a small growl. "I'm going to my room."

* * *

Have you ever woken up at night, not remembering it, you're just awake? That night was much like that. I was awake, lying in bed, when I felt a pain burst through my body. It started in my chest and exploded, going through my whole body, before I felt it leave through the top of my head, the tips of my fingers, my toes.

It was electricity.

Logan was having a nightmare.

I lay in bed, conscious, seeing only my room, but feeling the effects of his dream. Every few minutes, a wave would pass through me, causing my body to go into shaking spasms.

Then an image clouded my vision. I saw Logan sitting in a chair, unclothed. He was unconscious. His hair was long and wild. And he was covered in wires. They were coming from his eye sockets, his head, his neck, chest, arms. They were everywhere. The endings to them were all attached to one single object; what looked like a battery, which he held in his lap. The wires wrapped around him, protruding at odd angles. They were all different colors and sizes, making him look as if he were being held down by them, as they seemed to wrap around him and bind him to the chair.

Then his eyes opened.

I sat up in bed, gasping at the pain my body still felt. I tried closing my eyes and opening them again, but nothing worked; I couldn't get the image of Logan from my head. It was terrible and haunting, and I hated it.

I stood and quietly made my way from my room down to Logan's. I stood outside, my hand pressed against his door, instinctively reaching out for him.

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, but when I opened them, my own vision shifted. It alternated between my own and Logan's. He knew I was there. Everything was chopped up. One second I was in the hall by myself, the next I was looking at the back of the door from inside Logan's room.

I didn't know whose emotions where whose.

I didn't know which thoughts belonged to him or me.

I didn't know who was in more pain. And I didn't know if there was a difference.

It felt as if everything from him was pouring into me and everything from me was being poured into him.

"I'm sorry baby," he whispered. "I know you're hurtin' too."

I slid down the length of the wall, sitting in the floor. I stared straight ahead at the wall in front of me, but I could still feel him inside of me. I could still see him.

That night, we both sat awake, a wall between us, but not separated. I felt him, and that had always been the best thing about my mutation; being connected to him. I could feel his pain, what he felt inside where he was breaking. The dreams and memories were too much for him now, and he was tired. He wanted to just give up, let it all go. But he heard his own familiar words.

"Get back up," I whispered out to the empty hall. "You're not done yet. You've got a little longer to go. Just get up."

"Not now darlin', not this time," I heard him say quietly. "I'm tired."

"I need you. You have to keep going just a little longer. Then you can rest. But not now. Now I need you."

"I'm never gonna' leave you, but I just can't do this. Not tonight."

"Then sleep. I'm here."

"Love you," I heard him say.

I lay my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. Logan's and my relationship had always been unique. Different. Special. There were times that I needed him, and he had always been quick to rush to my side when I did. And there were times, like that night, when he needed me. Not to hold him and tell him that everything would be fine, as he did me, but to just be there. I sat outside his door, wanted to protect him from everything he saw and felt. But I couldn't.

"I love you too," I whispered.

I sat there that night, silently guarding him. My protector.

* * *

"Hey baby, wake up."

I opened my eyes, squinting into the light. "What time is it?"

"About five in the mornin'. You need to go to bed. Come on," Logan said, pulling me up. I had fallen asleep in the hall.

I shook my head. "I don't want to go to my room, it's sad in there," I said sleepily.

He furrowed his brow at me. "What do you mean?"

"I feel your nightmare in there. That's why I left; it's stuck in there."

"Can you come in my room, or do you feel it in there too?"

"No, it's just in my room. I see you…I don't like it."

"Alright, come with me then. You need to sleep somewhere besides the hallway."

"I have to get up again in another hour, though," I said, following him into his room, stumbling some.

"No you don't. You're gonna' take today off, alright? It's a sick day. For both of us." I lay down in his bed and closed my eyes. "Go back to sleep," he said, kissing me on my forehead.

"Are you coming back to bed, too?" I mumbled.

"You want me to?" I nodded sleepily into his pillow. "All right then, yeah."

Soon I felt him beside me, pulling me to him. I immediately felt safe. "I don't want you to leave me."

"I'm not goin' to."

"No," I said, my voice slipping as I drifted back to sleep. "I don't want _you_ to leave. You're not who you used to be, I don't want you to bring him back. I want you to remember who you are now."

"I will darlin'. Now go to sleep."

"Night Logan."

"Night Jayden."

* * *

"Good afternoon Logan, Jayden. We missed you both at breakfast," Hank said as Logan and I entered the dining hall for lunch. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just felt like sleepin' in is all," Logan said.

"That's unusual for the two of you."

"Is it? I didn't realize that bein' tired and wantin' to sleep in is 'unusual' for anyone. Sorry if we interrupted your day."

"I wasn't trying to imply that either of you interrupted anyone's day," Hank defended.

"Well, it's good to know everyone can get along without us."

"Not to be a killjoy," I started, "but can you not argue now? I have a headache and…I'm just tied of the constant fighting and arguing. I just want a break. For one day, okay?"

"Yes, I apologize," Hank said.

"It's fine. I just had a rough night."

"They just announced that they took down the last mutant at the bank in Chicago," Scott said, walking to our table.

"What mutants at what bank?" I asked.

He sat down beside me. "There were three mutants that broke into a bank in Chicago this morning. They were holding customers hostage. The SWAT team just took out the last one."

"And we all know that if they had been humans, they would have negotiated with them. But since they were mutants, they didn't hesitate in killing them," Storm said.

"One is still alive, but in critical condition."

"But they killed the other two, didn't they?"

"Yes Storm, they shot and killed them," Scott answered grimly.

"You never hear the one that gets you," Logan said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You never hear the shot that hits you. If someone's shootin' at you, worry more about what you don't hear than what you do. You don't hear their next shot, it's probably 'cause it's hittin' you."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I looked at my lunch, but saw him look over at me out of the corner of my eye. "Hey, you ain't gonna' be shot at anytime soon, I wouldn't worry about it, darlin'."

"Yeah, well, I wonder," I mumbled.

"You wanna' go lie back down?"

"That's not going to help. I have it…_stuck_ in my head, and nothing's going to get it out."

"Logan, you're awake," Rogue said, walking up to the table. "I need you to help me move something real quick. Please?"

"Yeah," he said standing. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. "Be right back."

"What's stuck in your head?" Scott asked once he was sure that Logan was far enough away that he wouldn't hear him.

"Just something I saw."

"What did you see?"

I looked at him. "I saw Logan. There were wires all over him, coming from everything. I mean, they were coming from his eyes, his scalp, his forearms. Just…everywhere. Everything's dark, but there's a light on him. I just see him sitting there, in this chair, unconscious. He looks so horrifying. And I'm staring at him, wanting him to open his eyes so that I can see something familiar and know that it's him. But…then he did. He opened his eyes and they were dark, just…pitch black. I _knew_ it was him, but it wasn't Logan. He wasn't the man that I met, the one that I've known. I've seen them do experiments on him. I know what they did to him. I've seen him while they've tried to drown him, electrocute him, cut him open, everything, but it's always been _him_. This wasn't Logan. It wasn't familiar. And I…can't get it out of my head. It scares me and I don't want to see it, but I do. Every time I close my eyes, it's there. When I go in my room, it's there too. I can't get away from it."

He put his hand on mine. "It's not Logan, not now, don't even focus on that. Just let it be another vision. Someone you don't know."

I shook my head. "I can't," I said, desperately wanting to look him in the eye. "I see _him_, but it's like he's empty, he's gone. It's terrifying."

"Did you talk to him about it?"

"A little bit. He sort of knew what I saw, though. He usually knows when I'm having a hard time with his memories. Last night was pretty rough; we were both having a hard time. I just don't know how to explain to him what I saw, because it wasn't his _memory_; it was my _vision_ of him. Even if I did tell him, I don't know that it would get it out of my mind."

"Well I'm always here. You know that, right? I'll listen to anything you want to talk about."

I smiled at him. "Thank you, Scott."

He smiled back at me. "You're welcome."

Lunch went pretty well. I could see that Logan was dying to fight with Scoot over him sitting so close to me once he and Rogue came back. But he was good. He behaved himself and actually listened to me when I asked him not to argue anymore that day. He did, however, quietly flirt with Rogue from across the table. As soon as I had finished my eating, I excused myself from the table. I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Miss Rivers, do you have any plans for this afternoon?" Scott asked, surprising me as he joined me half way down the staff hall.

I looked at him curiously. "Not that I know of, no." I tucked a lose piece of hair behind my ear. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I thought it was a nice day to take the bike out for a ride and was just wondering if you wanted to join me?"

My heart jack hammered in my chest as I blushed and smiled at him. "I've never ridden on a motorcycle before," I confessed.

"It's not too hard; you just wrap your arms around me and hold on." He grinned.

My blush deepened. "I think I can do that."

"Do you want to tell Logan or do you just want to go?"

"I think he's a little preoccupied at the moment," I said. "I'll leave him a note."

And I did. I told him I had gone out and would be back later that night. Then Scott and I left. He had been fairly truthful in saying that riding on a motorcycle was easy. But I was having a hard time breathing being so close to him. Which wasn't so easy.

The ride was fun. We got out of Westchester and just drove. He took us through back roads where the view was gorgeous. Everything seemed to fly right past us, and I felt like I didn't have a care in the world. I understood why both he and Logan loved motorcycles. When you were on one, you were free. You didn't have a car blocking your view; you could see everything around you. It was beautiful and breathtaking at times. I had gone on a few car trips with my parents when I was younger, but the scenery wasn't quite the same. Scott knew just where to go to avoid traffic and big buildings. He drove us through endless trees, casting a long and stretching shadow over us. Then when the sun decided to set, he stopped in front of a lake, behind which the sun was sinking. All of the setting sun's colors were reflected off the calm waters, casting a golden glow over everything around us. We didn't speak, we just watched the sun.

As we drove back home in the dark, with the moon to our backs, I realized that he knew the lonely route so well because after Jean died, he had driven it many times. I knew it because I could feel it from him. I also knew that I was the first person he had allowed to go with him. It was there he could go to let down his guard. To put away he façade. To truly be him, all pain, joy, grief, love, anger, and everything else he felt. And he had chosen to share it with me.

Before I had met Logan, I wasn't close to anyone. I didn't need people, and I never wanted to. But he changed it all. He made me need him, want him, love him. When I moved to the school, I had a crush on Scott, but the first person I became close to besides Logan, was Hank. He was smart, sweet, fun, and I knew he wouldn't judge me.

Then the Professor. He was a quiet figure, but he built up a trust between us, and soon I came to see him as a friend.

It wasn't until I was there for a while that I really became close to Scott. I was too scared he would find out about my crush and I really didn't want him to know. Slowly I came to realize that the two of us were quite a bit alike and I genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. I had a hard time expressing and being honest about my emotions, and he understood that. He didn't want me to pour my heart out to him; he just wanted me to talk to him. And then there were days like that where we just spent time together. It was hard to get over my phobia of getting close to people, but it was days like that when I was glad that I had.

"Can you get an ice cream, or is that out of your diet for today?" Scott asked me from over his shoulder as we drove down a long stretch of road.

"No, I think I can fit it in for you," I said.

I felt him smile. "Good. Hold on," he said, making a sharp turn and cutting into a parking lot. We parked and I climbed off the back of the bike, stumbling a bit. I heard him laugh. "Saddle sore?" he joked.

I laughed. "I think so. I told you I had never ridden one before."

He climbed off easily. "I guess I should have warned you about that."

"If I'm in pain tomorrow, I'm blaming you."

"I'll take full responsibility for it." He smiled.

I unbuckled my helmet and placed it on the back seat of the bike. "Honestly; just _how_ bad does my hair look?"

He smiled at me. "It looks good. If you're going for the helmet hair look, which I'm assuming you are?"

"Absolutely. It's all the rage in…Canada." I laughed.

"That would explain a lot about Logan," he joked.

"Hey, watch it," I said. "I was born in Canada. Technically I'm a Canadian."

He laughed. "My apologies."

"For what; making fun of Logan or that I was born in Canadian?"

He gave me a smile, his dimples showing. "Both."

"So are your parents coming up for your birthday next week?" Scott asked after we had gotten our ice creams and were sitting and eating them.

"Uh, no. Not that I know of, anyway. I suppose they could surprise me, but I seriously doubt it."

"Why?"

"The last time I saw them was when they came to take me home. Our meeting was a little…difficult, but necessary and I said a lot of things they didn't want to hear. We talk on the phone every now and then, but I doubt a visit from them is in my immediate future. Not unless something terrible happens that forces them to come see me."

"You really gave up a lot by moving here, didn't you? I can't imagine making that big of a decision at your age."

I shrugged. "It wasn't that big of a deal in the end. I know you don't like Logan and he can really infuriate me at times, but he's the best thing that ever happened to me, and the thought of being without him was so overwhelmingly terrifying that I would give up anything to be with him. I didn't know how to be without him. I love my parents but…it's different with them. I felt trapped at home with them. But at the school…I feel encouraged there. I feel like I can do anything and I don't have to worry about being told no," I said. "Not to mention I'm not sure what I would do without you and Hank. I would miss you guys."

He smiled. "We would miss you, too."

"I'm sure."

"I'm serious. We would. I know it would break Hank's heart if you ever left him."

"It would break mine, too."

"And I would be pretty sad myself."

I blushed and gave him a small smile. "I would _really_ miss you," I said dropping my eyes down to my ice cream. "I'm not sure who I would talk to about this sort of stuff. I mean, I can talk to Logan about my parents, but I know he doesn't like to hear it. I think it's easier for him to just pretend that it's always been us, and they never had any part of it. But you're the only person I can talk to about him. And uh…" I shrugged. "You know, you're just a good person to talk to or eat ice cream with."

He smiled at me. "You too," he said. He stirred around his ice cream as his smile fell from his face. When he looked up at me again, his expression was serious. "I know what you mean about needing someone to talk to. After Jean died, I shut down. I didn't talk to anyone about it. Everyone else was dealing with her death, but no one knew where I was coming from, or how I felt. Jean, aside from being my wife, was my best friend. She knew everything about me. When I was upset, I never had to say anything; she could read my mind and know what was wrong. When she died, a part of me died too. I felt a cold, burning, empty spot in my chest. I missed her being in my head. And I still do. It took a long time to accept her being gone, because she was such a part of me that I stopped operating without her. It's still hard when I wake up in the mornings and I'm alone and it bed by myself… When Logan went missing, and you broke down in my room, I saw reacting the same way as I did. I didn't want you to shut down like me, though. I wanted you to have someone to talk to. I just didn't know how to go about it, and I'm really sorry that you didn't have anyone to talk to when you really needed it."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and let out a sigh. "I don't know that anything anyone said would've made it better, and I'm not sure that I could have talked about how I felt, either. I never imagined feeling a pain like that. I would just lie in bed and cry. It didn't help, it didn't bring him back, but I couldn't help it. I just got tired of it all… I tried to drown myself the morning just before he came back. I don't know how, I didn't want to talk about it long enough to find out, but somehow Logan and the Professor kept me from dying. I woke up thirty minutes later perfectly fine. Which only depressed me even more. My life felt like it was gone with him and all of my reason with it. Nothing anyone said would have made me see that I needed help. What scares me though is the fact that I allowed myself to get that depressed." I shook my head. "I didn't like it, I still don't, because I still feel it in me and I'm afraid that something else is going to come along and put me right back to where I was."

"I won't let you get that way again, I promise. You mean a lot to everyone at the school, they all love you, but you mean a lot to _me_ and I don't want to lose you too. But you have to let me know when you need me, okay? I know it may sound selfish, but I'm not prepared to lose anyone else close to me right now. If anything else, I need you here to keep me sane. Deal?"

I game him a small, weak smile and nodded my head. "Yeah, deal."

"Care to shake on that?" he said with a bit of a smile breaking through on his mouth.

"Sure," I said, sticking out my hand. He took it. "I promise that as long as we need each other, we will do everything in our power to be there for one another."

"And if anything ever happens we will always be there, no matter the time, for the other one to talk to."

I smiled. "Deal."

"Alright; deal," he said as we shook hands.

Scott was more than a simple crush. Scott was one of the few people who understood me. Which scared me half to death.


	15. Breaking Point

Disclaimer: I really and honestly don't own the rights to anything, Marvel, Fox or otherwise. I hope ya'll enjoy it, though.

* * *

"Where've you been?" I heard Logan ask as I opened the door to my bedroom.

I turned around and saw him standing in his doorway. "I went out for a while," I said.

"Out where?"

"I don't know, just out."

"It's ten o'clock at night, I didn't know where you were and I want more of an answer than 'out'. And who'd you go with, that Ben kid?"

"No, I went out with Scott. He took me riding on his motorcycle. He was trying to cheer me up."

"You went ridin' with Summers and didn't tell me?" he asked, leaving his doorway. He crossed the hall and made it over to me just as I entered my room. He followed me.

"I left you a note."

"Where'd you leave it?"

"I slipped it under your door before we left."

"You still didn't ask me if you could go."

"I don't have to ask your permission on everything. I am an adult, you know? I'm fully capable of making my own decisions."

"Good for you kid, but it would've been nice if you would've come and at least told me you were leavin' 'cause I didn't get no note."

"Yeah, well, you were a little preoccupied at the time," I said, pulling off my shoes.

"With what?"

I looked away from him as I took off my motorcycle jacket. "I don't know. Why don't you ask _Marie_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that if I told you I was going to jump off a bridge while she was in the same room as you, you wouldn't even hear me."

"Excuse me?"

I finally looked at him. "Whenever she's with you, I'm pushed into the background. It's like I'm not even there."

"That's not true."

"That's how I feel."

"It ain't how I feel, though."

I shrugged. "All right, fine."

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Pretendin' you're all right with everything. I ain't gonna' push you to talk about something if you don't wanna' talk about it. But I ain't gonna stand here and wait."

"I don't expect you to," I said, looking away from him.

"I'm not the same as your parents; I know when you're just actin' like everything's fine. But I know it's not. So if you wanna' say something to me, then say it."

There was a small knock on my open door. We both turned and saw Rogue standing there. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, but someone's stolen all of my gloves from my room and I don't know what to do."

"I'll come help you look for 'em in a second," Logan said. "See if you can't get Summers, Drake, Hank and 'Ro to check the kid's rooms."

"Alright, thanks Logan."

"Look at me," he said after a few moments. "Jayden, she can't touch people, if she can't find her gloves then what's she gonna' do?"

"Go help her then."

"I want you to look at me."

"And I don't want to."

"This is your problem, not mine," he said walking to my door.

"I've never been your problem, Logan, and you've always been quick to remind me of that," I said, finally looking up at him. He stared at me, a mixture of anger and genuine compassion on his face. "Go on, _she_ needs you."

He turned and left, closing my door behind him. I stood there for a little longer, staring at my closed door before breaking down into tears. The past two days had been hard and I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep and if for only one night, I didn't want to see anything. I had enough of my own problems to deal with without having to see anyone else's.

* * *

I had been lying in bed for nearly an hour when there was a knock on my door.

"Go away Logan," I said quietly, my nose congested from crying. He knocked again. "Logan, I know you can hear me, go away." Another knock. I got out of bed and stomped my way to the door. "What do you want? I told you to go away!" I said, flinging my door open. My eyes went wide and my mouth dropped.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't hear you," Scott said.

"No, I thought you were Logan. I'm so sorry, Scott. I didn't know it was you."

His brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. "Logan and I got into a little argument earlier and I just didn't want to see him right now."

"No, your eyes look like you've been crying."

I sniffled. "Why, do they look red?" I joked.

He smiled. "Actually, they look brown to me."

"I didn't know you could see colors?"

"I can't, but I've learned how to tell the difference between them. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to drive, would I? I would never know a green light from a real red light," he said. "So are they?"

My eyebrow raised in question. "Are they what?"

"Are your eyes brown?"

"Oh," I said slightly blushing. "Sort of. They're hazel, actually, so a little bit."

He nodded. "Look, I just wanted to apologize if I got you in trouble with Logan. He took me aside and we had a little 'chat' a few minutes ago. Apparently he doesn't appreciate me taking you out for hours at a time. He said that the two of you discussed it and got into a bit of a fight over it. I wanted to say that I'm sorry if I started a fight between you two."

"You didn't."

"Well you're mad a him for some reason."

"Not because of you. We got into an argument over someone else."

"May I be so inclined as to guess who?"

I rolled my eyes. "Do you _really_ have to guess?"

"She doesn't try to…"

"Piss me off?"

"I was going to be less crude and say make things hard for you, but I see where you're coming from," he said with the tiniest hint of a smile. "She doesn't do anything to hurt you purposefully. She wants to be your friend. She's trying hard."

"Well of course she's trying to be nice to me; she wants to be my _step-mother_."

"That would never happen."

"How do you know that? They're both so mushy over each other it's disgusting. Why wouldn't it happen?"

"Because Logan doesn't exist…legally speaking, anyway." I rolled my eyes. "I'm trying, what can I say?"

I smiled at him, small and weak. "I know you are and I really appreciate it, Scott. You're a good friend."

"I try," he said. "Well, I'll let you get back to bed and I'll see you in the morning. But you know if you need to come talk to me, you can." I nodded. "Okay, goodnight."

"Goodnight." He turned and began walking down the hall towards his room. "Scott," I called out quietly. He stopped and turned back around to look at me. "Thank you for today. I needed to get out and I had a lot of fun. Despite Logan's temper tantrum. So…thank you."

"You don't have to thank me; I had fun, too." He smiled at me. "Goodnight Jayden."

"Night."

I went back to bed that night and instead of crying myself to sleep, as I had nearly done before, I felt hopeful. Things were finally starting to look up.

* * *

"So what are your plans for today?" Hank asked me as I sat watching him make breakfast. If had been two days since Logan and I had gotten into our argument and had since put it behind us and made up.

I shrugged as I took a sip of my orange juice. "I don't know. Probably the same as every day."

"Workout and train?" he asked, looking up at me from where he had been dicing tomatoes.

"That's not all I do."

"Is it not?"

"No. I do…other things," I said lamely. He looked at me from underneath his blue furrowed brow. "Do I really not do anything else?"

"You do eat and sleep on occasion," he joked.

"You know, there was a time in my life when I would spend my summers reading and watching movies. I could turn out a book every day or two. Now I feel like I don't have time to do anything."

"Well then, why don't you be my date tonight to my viewing of 'To Catch a Thief'?"

"Where are they showing it at?"

"The den," he said, beaming at me.

I smiled. "All right, I suppose I could make it _all_ the way to the den. If not for you, then for Cary Grant."

"Are you a fan?"

"If he wasn't dead, I would want to marry him."

He smiled at me. "So is it a date then?"

"Absolutely. What time does it start?"

"Eight o'clock."

"I'll be there."

"Great," he said as Scott and Logan walked in together, arguing as always. Hank raised his brow at them, making me laugh. "Good morning, gentlemen."

"Mornin' McCoy," Logan said sitting in the chair opposite mine. I propped my feet up in his lap and he winked at me.

"May I inquire as to what the two of you are having a discussion about?" Hank asked, dropping his freshly cut tomatoes into a skillet that he had just cracked eggs in.

"Logan and I are discussing the difference between what the law does to criminals and what we, as X-Men, do."

"And what are the points you are both arguing?"

"I say that we aren't law enforcement officers, we're mutants, and we have no real authority in the court of law. We only bring in the mutants or criminals that the government doesn't have the tools to bring in themselves," Scott said. "Not saying that what we do is pointless, because I obviously don't think it is, or otherwise I wouldn't be part of the team, let alone _leading_ it. All I'm saying is; when we capture a criminal, it's only that; capturing one. We then turn them over to the police. We shouldn't take out our own hostilities on them. We're supposed to be professionals, not as bad as the criminals themselves."

"And the government's just done one bang up job on punishin' the people we take in, haven't they?" Logan said. "We got out, we find murderers, we take 'em in and it takes 'em a year or more to get convicted, then they sit on death row for thirty years. They ain't hurtin' there either. They got everything they need. And who's payin' for it? The family he killed from, 'cause the government's takin' it outta' taxes they keep jackin' up so that while there's people lyin' out on the street homeless, murderers can be livin' comfortably, havin' everything taken care of for 'em."

"And I agree with you that that's wrong; it shouldn't happen that way. But what's your solution? You want to kill the murderers."

"If you kill someone who ain't done anything to deserve it, then _you_ deserve to be killed."

"So, by your reasoning, _you_ deserve to be killed then?"

"No, I don't kill people for the fun of it; I only do it if there's a reason."

"And that's why there are murderers on death row. Does it take a long time for them to eventually be executed? Yes, but it _is_ being done."

"_Eventually_ gettin' done ain't good enough. Why do you think it is that it takes them so long to convict one of their own, but you say one word about mutant registration and they jump all over it? How long do you think it would take them to get that passed and started? Yeah, not long at all," Logan said. "Besides, it ain't all just about murderers."

"Then who is it about? Who else do you think should be killed?"

"I don't think they should all die, dyin's the easy way out. I think whatever you do; it should be done to you."

Scott rubbed his brow. "Dare I even ask what you're referring to?"

"Rapist. They should be thrown in a cell with a bunch of skinheads and let 'em use 'em like a piece of meat. Child molesters should be castrated."

"Castrated? Logan _this_ is why you don't go on all of the missions with us; you would be off hacking these people to pieces."

"If they deserve it, they why not? You're all about justice when it's takin' 'em in, but when you gotta' do it, you don't wanna' get your hands dirty."

"No, I think that we have no official authority to put our own brand of punishment on _anyone_, no matter _what_ they've done, or _who_ they are."

"And what about the people who kill their own kids and claim insanity? They don't get as much time 'cause they're sayin' they were crazy when they were doin' it. Most killin' ain't rational, it's an animal instinct, so they should all be given five years in a mental institution and then just let go to live their lives again."

"You know that's not how it works, Logan."

"That woman that was on the news a few years ago, the one that took each of her kids, one by one, and drowned them in the bathtub, she only got convicted not long ago, and she didn't get the full penalty 'cause she said she was crazy. You want me to tell you how to fix that? You stick her head in water, hold her down until she passes out, not dies, then you let her come to before doin' it again. You do it as many times as kids she had and killed. Then you come back and do the exact same thing the next day. You keepin' doin' that and these people ain't gonna' be pleadin' insanity, they're gonna' be wantin' to go to the top of the death row list, 'cause after enough times of doin' that, that electric chair's gonna' be lookin' pretty cozy."

"So your solution is to torture people?"

"No, I'm sayin' that if you start makin' the punishments so terrible, people won't do the crimes to get 'em punished. When people used to steal, they'd cut their hands off. It's the same thing."

"There's a _reason_ why we don't just go around cutting people's hands off, Logan. It's called being _civilized_, which you obviously know nothing about. This is America; you're innocent until proven guilty in a court of law where you are judged by your peers, not a crazed blood thirsty Canadian who kills anyone who gets in his way."

Although he was sitting at the table patiently, I could feel that Logan was ready to snap at any moment. But he just looked up at Scott from under his eyebrows and gave him a small smirk. That was the look that scared me more than anything else. "If you mess with someone's family, you need to know you ain't just gonna' get away with it 'cause you got a good sob story."

"So you're saying if anyone _ever_ touched Jayden, you would _kill_ them?"

"He already has." Scott and Hank stared at me. "What? It was before he knew I was his daughter, but he did."

"That's great Logan; teach your daughter that it's okay to just _kill_ people," Scott said.

The smirk fell off Logan's face as he stared up at Scott intensely. "You weren't there, Summers. You've seen me do a lot, and I don't really care what you think of me for doin' it, but you were there that night and you don't know _why_ I killed him, so I suggest you drop it."

Scott turned his head to the side and furrowed his brow. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said.

"You don't kill someone over nothing."

"Well, nothing did happen."

"Did he…_touch_ you?"

"I desperately do not want to be having this conversation," I muttered quietly. I let out a deep sigh. "Nothing happen. Although the man _tried_ very hard, Logan stopped him. That's why I worked so hard to learn self defense and how to fight; if Logan hadn't stopped him, something _would_ have happened. I refused to be helpless ever again," I said. "But this isn't about me; I do believe that the two of you were having quite the entertaining conversation and about to go at each other."

Logan looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. "You're enjoyin' this?"

I shrugged. "I agree with you, so why not?"

"You agree with _him_?" Scott said, sounding surprised.

"Uh…yeah, kind of," I said timidly.

"Why?"

"I didn't used to. When he did kill that guy, I…I don't know, I wondered why he did. But now, I understand why. It's because in a strange barbaric way, it makes sense. It's an eye for an eye type of thing."

"If we always gave an eye for an eye, the world would be blind," Hank said. Logan and I gave him identical looks. "Ready to eat?"

I shook my head. Logan smiled at me and gave me another wink. Then his smile faded as he set his eyes on something behind me. My sight shifted to his for only a moment. That was all I needed. It was Marie.

"Good morning Rogue. Care for an omelet?" Hank asked.

"No thank you, Hank. I came here to steal Logan."

I sent him a look that said, 'Of course'.

He sent me one that said, 'Behave'.

I rolled my eyes.

"_Steal_ him? I don't think you would have to fight with anyone too hard for them to just _give_ him away," Scott said.

"Well, I thought Jayden might've wanted to do something with him today," she said, stopping right in front of our table.

"I don't know; what did you need to '_steal_' him for?" Logan swatted my foot. I kicked him in gut. He gave me a death look. I gave him one right back.

"We're goin' shoppin' for you a birthday present, so if you got anything you want, tell me now, or you won't get another chance," he said, still giving me the evil eye.

"Logan, you weren't supposed to tell her; it's supposed to be a surprise," Marie reprimanded him with a smile. He looked up at her and the look faded from his eyes.

"I don't care; I want to know what she wants so we can go in, get it, and get out as soon as possible."

"You're such a grumpy old man."

"Did I ever say I wasn't?"

"No."

"Alright then." He took his eyes off her just long enough to look at me. "What do you want?"

I gave him a small smirk. "Your unconditional love is the only gift I ever need."

He shook his head at me. "Then that's what you're gettin', 'cause it's a lot cheaper."

"Are you calling me cheap?" I asked, catching a smile from Scott.

"I wish," he said standing. "Last chance, kid."

"I'm at your present buying mercy," I joked.

"All right then, if you get a pair of wool socks, it's your fault. We'll be back later. Take care of yourself until I get back, okay?"

"Yeah. Be careful."

"We will," he said. "You ready to go Rogue?" he asked, looking down at her.

Rogue. He only called her Marie when they were alone, or he was talking to me. As far as I knew, no one else even knew her real name. I knew it not because he had told me, but because I had heard him call her by it in my visions.

She looked up at him with a small smirk on her lips. "Are you starin' at my chest, Logan?"

"Uh, no, I was uh…lookin' at the little thingy in the front."

She was wearing a corset-esque top with a sweater and gloves. "It's called a ribbon, not a thingy."

"Right, yeah. I was just wonderin' if it really tied up that way or not."

Her grin grew wider. "Gee Logan; I didn't realize you were gay. That's so cute." He let out a small growl. "I'll go start the car, sugah," she said, leaving the kitchen with a smile.

He looked over at me. "Most kids are lucky enough to never have to see their parents flirt with other people. I used to be one of those kids. Now my dad gets frisky while I'm trying to eat my breakfast." Scott and Hank laugh.

"I'm not gettin' frisky with anyone, now eat your food. You're gettin' too skinny," he said, walking back over to me. He bent down and kissed me on my forehead. "Be good, darlin'."

"I will be, but you better hurry and get to the mall; you don't want to have to fight with the old ladies for a parking spot."

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I didn't say I was."

"Do you ever have to?" I looked up at him. "Me and you'll do something tonight, alright? Just the two of us."

"Hank and I have a date tonight."

"We can reschedule," Hank said. "You'll be starting college soon and the two of you should spend as much time together as possible."

"But-" I started.

"Care Grant can wait," he said with a smile.

"Okay then, what are we doing tonight?"

"I don't know, I'll think of something." He looked down at me. "Okay?"

I smiled up at him. "Yeah, okay."

"Be ready when I get back."

"All right. Bye and be careful," I said as he started walking towards the door.

"We will."

"Love you," I whispered quietly.

He turned around in the doorway and gave me a wink. "Right back at'cha, kid." Then he left.

I shook my head. "I have by far the weirdest family ever."

* * *

"Jayden, what are you doing here? I thought you and Logan were going out tonight?" Hank said as I plopped down on the couch beside him in the den.

"Yeah, so did I. But apparently he and Rogue got a little tied up somewhere or you know, he forgot me," I huffed.

"I'm sure he didn't just forget you."

"They've been gone for _nine_ hours. Either something's wrong, or he's forgotten me. Now I don't feel any pain coming from him, so I say forgotten."

"Well look on the bright side; you at least get to keep your date with me and watch 'To Catch a Thief'." He smiled.

"I don't even think Cary Grant can fix me right now. I'm pretty upset."

"Don't be."

"I don't understand."

"You don't understand what?"

"Why he does this."

"When we are in love, our brains stay in a constant state of contentment, and causes the part of our brain that uses reasoning to falter."

"So Logan's brain is short circuiting?"

"In a way, yes."

"Brilliant," I said dryly.

"Well if it means anything, I think you look lovely tonight."

I smiled. "Thank you."

"Twinkie?" he said, offering me the opened box. I considered it for a moment before finally taking one. "I've been good; I deserve at least a Twinkie."

I sat quietly and ate while watching the end of a movie called 'My Man Godfry' while Hank explained what had happened so far. I had never seen it before and he promised to watch it with me again some day.

"Hank, what do I look like when I have visions?"

"Well, before you could control it, you used to look as if you were just staring blankly straight ahead. But as you learned to control it, your eyes began to…film over, in a way."

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"Have you ever seen Ororo when she's using her powers?"

"Yeah."

"And have you seen her eyes, how they white out?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Yours are quite similar when you're having a vision."

"Do you think…I mean, is it possible that maybe they've continued to grow white since I've learned how to control it because now I know how to block everything else out, and _that_ somehow, maybe, helps me to focus on the vision?"

"Yes, I think it's quite possible that that could be the case," he said as the credits for 'My Man Godfry' began to roll. "Why the sudden interest?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, I was just curious." I saw him looking at me from the corner of my eye. I waited as he watched me for a few moments before I laughed and looked over at him. "Why are you staring at me?"

"You don't enjoy being a mutant, do you?"

The question hit me like a ton of bricks; hard, fast, and painfully. "I don't mind being one, it's just…I never feel alone, you know? It's like there's always _someone_ here." I said, touching my temple with my hand, "in my head at all times. A little peace and quiet would be nice every once in a while. But I don't get to have that. I feel something, someone, in my head constantly and after sixteen years of it, I'm just starting to get a little tired."

"We all have our obstacles that we have to tackle."

"I know, but I'm weak."

"No you're not. Your physical strength is amazing."

I let out a sigh. "Physically, yeah, maybe I'm pretty strong. But mentally? That's a completely different story. I was blessed with my father's stable and rational mind," I said sarcastically. "Mentally I feel something in the back of my mind, just wanting to be let out. And it scares me."

"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate but that we are powerful beyond measure," he replied.

"No."

"No what?"

"My greatest fear isn't that I'm inadequate or powerful. My greatest fear is that I won't be able to control myself. There's something there that just wants to push its way out and I don't know if I can control it or not."

He furrowed his brow at me. "That's why you keep such rigorous schedules, isn't it? Why you force yourself onto a strict diet and work out routine? Because you need control?"

I looked away from him. "Yes," I said quietly. "In a way." I let out a deep sigh. "When I lived with my parents, they planned everything out for me. I don't know how to live without order. My mother always said that there is no meaning without order. I did what she said because I was scared that she would give me away, too. I was terrified of failing them and so I just did everything they told me to. Eventually their habits became mine."

"You were a child. You can't expect a child to be in control. Parents, adults, they're the ones who are supposed to have the control for the children. How could they put that much pressure on you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but it wasn't just them."

"Who else was it?"

"Me. Deep in my mind there was always something and I knew I had to keep it under control. I never knew what it was until a few months ago." I looked up at him. "It's Logan. It's the part of him that goes berserker. The part of him that has no limits. It's an animal trying to claw its way out. Order is the only way to control it."

"And you think that's weak?"

"Yeah. Don't you?"

"No, I think it's quite the opposite actually. Do you think that Logan's weak for being able to keep himself in line? For not losing his temper constantly? Granted he does lose his cool every once in a while, but the amount of control he shows in keeping himself from lashing out on everyone is quite amazing. Do you find _him_ weak?"

"No," I said. "Logan's the strongest person I know."

"Then why do you think that you are weak for the exact same reasons you find him strong?"

"I don't know," I said quietly.

He lowered his mouth down to my ear. "Jayden Rivers, one of these days you will see just whatever else sees when they look at you. A strong, intelligent, witty, charming, and beautiful young lady who has her whole life ahead of her." I looked up at him. "You are a very special and you are going to do great things. There is no limit to what you can do, I promise. And that has nothing to do with whether you're a mutant or a human, it has to do with _you_."

A tear rolled down my cheek and he wiped it away. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of my head. "You're welcome," he said, pulling me to him.

As the movie began, I felt my eyes grow heavy and I curled up next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. I fought sleep, but I was just too tired, so I let my eyes close.

"I love you, Hank."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

* * *

I woke up and looked around.

"Ah, sleeping beauty, you're awake. You've missed nearly all of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly's romance on the French Riviera," Hank said, smiling at me.

I looked at him sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Half past nine."

"Is Logan back yet?"

"I believe so."

"Did he say what took him so long?"

"I didn't speak to him."

I stood. "Well I'm going to go find out."

I walked from the den, listening for the sound of Logan's voice. As I was walking through the living room, I heard him in the kitchen. Not talking, but laughing. I quietly made my way down to the kitchen and walked in.

"Hey Jayden, we got some ice cream, do you want some?" Marie asked. "You look awfully cute. Did you have a date?"

Logan, who had been facing Rogue, turned around and looked at me. He swore. "Kid, I'm sorry, I forgot that we were supposed to go out tonight."

I turned and walked from the kitchen. "How sweet of you to _forget_ your daughter."  
He followed me. "Darlin', I'm sorry, I didn't forget you; I forgot we were doin' something. That's why we were gone; we were lookin' for you a freakin' birthday present. Maybe if you would've _told_ me what you wanted, we could've been home sooner."

I stopped, turned around and faced him. "So this is _my_ fault?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's not what I said."

I shook my head. "Don't talk to me."

"You're gonna' be mad at me 'cause I accidentally forgot?"

"I'm your _daughter_, Logan. Whether or not you like it, it doesn't matter, it's true. I've been with you for eight months and somehow you've managed to forget me more times than I can count. My father has never forgotten me, not once in fifteen years."

"Yeah, well, I'm not him."

"That's quite obvious." He stared at me. "Just go back to playing footsy with Rogue. You have her, you don't need me, I'll just go back home."

"Don't threaten me with that. You wanna' go home, you do it, but don't keep throwin' it up to me."

"Why? Does it hurt you? Have you ever thought that maybe that's _why_ I keep threatening you with it? Maybe when you hurt me, it's the only thing I can think of to get back at you."

He swore. "Get back at me? For _what_? _Accidentally_ forgettin' that I made last minute plans with you? You didn't even want to go with me tonight, remember? You wanted to stay here with Hank. So what did I do to hurt you _so_ bad?"

"It's not that you forgot; it's _why_. Because you were with _her_. Rogue."

He cocked an eyebrow and looked at me condescendingly. "It hurts you that I spend time with Marie?" I didn't say anything. He walked closer to me, closing the gap between us completely. "And what about you and Scott, huh? What do you think that does to me?"

"There's nothing going on between Scott and me."

"There ain't nothing goin' on between me and Marie, either," he said. "And there better not be anything goin' on between you and Scott, 'cause I'd kill him. I ain't jokin' either darlin'; if I ever find out that he makes a move on you, I'll kill him."

"Why? You're chasing after a girl that's not much older than me. At least Scott's not that much older."

"Yeah he is."

"How is he too old for me?"

"'Cause you're eighteen-"

"Almost nineteen-"

"And you're still just a kid."

"What? Marie is _two_ years older than me, that doesn't seem to bother you. And you're what? A hundred and something, two hundred? Yeah, it somehow doesn't work out so well, now does it?"

"The only reason Summers would ever want to be with you is to get back at me for tryin' to take Jean away from him."

"No, you need to understand something; not everything revolves around you. What you and Jean did has no effect over Scott's and my relationship. The world doesn't rise and fall with everything you do, Logan."

"Really? 'Cause wasn't it just not too long ago when you were tryin' to kill yourself over me? So apparently what I do _does_ affect you."

I didn't say anything, we both just stood there staring at each other because I was still trying to process everything that he had said. I felt a pain in my chest that was my heart.

"What's going on here?" Hank asked, walking up to us.

"I'm leaving," I said, backing away from Logan.

"What? Where are you goin?" Hank asked.

"I don't know, I don't care, I just can't stay here. I have to leave."

"Why?"

"Ask Logan," I said, marching up the staircase.

"You're not goin' anywhere," Logan said, following me up the stairs.

"Stay away from me."

"You're not leavin'."

"I said stay away from me."

He grabbed my upper arm and stopped me. He came up to the same step that I was standing on and grabbed my other upper arm. It felt like he was towering over me. He gave me a shake. "You're not goin' anywhere. You can be pissed at me, you can stop talkin' to me, I don't care. But you ain't leavin' and that's final. Do you understand me?"

I twister out of his grip with ease and slapped him across the face. "Do _not_ touch me like that ever again. Do _you_ understand _me_? I'm not some little kid you can push around and tell what to do. I'm leaving. And _that's_ final."

"If you leave this house-"

"If I leave this house, _what_? What are you going to do? Huh, Logan? Stop trying to be my father; you're not. You're just a man who screws every woman on two legs, and runs away from anything that even _hints_ at you having to take some sort of responsibility. I gave up _everything_ for you. _Everything_. But that wasn't your fault, that was mine. Because I was stupid to think that you actually ever cared about me. You don't. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You're a selfish, uncaring, jealous, controlling man. And I never should have left home to find you, because it's been a waste of my time. _You_ are a waste of my time, and I'm done."

I left him standing on the stairs as I ran to my room. I couldn't take it. My head was swimming. I wanted to cry, but I forced myself not to. There wasn't time, because as soon as I got to my room, I grabbed a duffle bag from my closet and began filling it with clothes. I didn't think, I just moved. When I was done packing, I put on my nearest pair of running shoes, grabbed my wallet and left. I didn't know where I was going, I just couldn't stay there.

So I ran.

I ran for miles and miles.

I ran until I spotted a motel with a 'Yes We're Open' sign in the window.

I checked in.

As soon as I entered the room, the smell overwhelmed me. My senses were almost fully developed and stayed 'on' most of the time, but it didn't stop me from still being taken aback by them at times.

The room was dark, but my eyes adjusted to it immediately and I could see the layout of the room clearly. There was a single twin bed, a TV, and a door that led to the bathroom. Saying it was quaint in any sense would have been stretching the truth by a mile.

It was ugly.

It was disgusting.

It was cold.

It was the price I paid for needing to get away.

Actually, to be fair, the price I paid was twenty dollars. A little steep, I thought, but the man at the desk said they were the only place open that late at night within fifty miles and that they were filling up fast. The first storm of the year was rolling through, threatening to flood everything out for days, he said. We had been in a drought, but Logan always seemed to bring two things for me; pain and rain. How curious that the two should rhyme.

I stripped my bed of its comforter, refusing to sleep under it. Like I always did. Only that time, my sense of smell confirmed my disgust for them.

I dropped my duffle bag in the floor and pulled off my shoes. The light in my room was dim, even for my eyesight, and it gave me a headache. I swung my legs up onto the bed and pulled my knees to my chest. It was then that I finally let myself cry. I wanted to pretend that what Logan had said was just him trying to get back at me, his own way of twisting the knife that he had stuck in my heart right after I had stuck one in his. We were trying to hurt each other, that was the point. But Logan never said anything he didn't mean. Even if he was trying to get back at me, he meant _every_ word he said.

Did I? Did I really mean that he was a waste of my time? That he was uncaring and selfish? Maybe I did at the time, maybe I even believe it while I was sitting there, crying my eyes out. But was I done with him? Could I really just walk away and leave him? I didn't know, so I lay down and closed my eyes. It was late and I was too tired to think. I just needed some rest. Some sleep. Then I could think straight and make a rational decision. But right then, the best thing for me was to sleep.


	16. Vendetta

Disclaimer: Nothing witty, I just don't own the rights to Marvel or Fox. This part of the story on was hard for me to write and I was depressed until I finished it. I hope it was worth it, because I really threw my all into it. So just a small review saying if I did a good or bad job would be appreciated.

Author's Note: As of 9-13-13 I'm adding a warning that the themes from here on out may be too heavy for some. If you're sensitive to slightly graphic themes, read with caution. Or skip to the end. I won't tell. ;)

* * *

_I feel something hard. It's concrete_.

I blinked, my eyesight blurry. My head was pounding and I was having a difficult time keeping my eyes open.

Something wasn't right. It was quiet.

Everything was quiet.

Even in my head.

"You're awake," I heard a voice say. "We've been waiting for you to wake up. Didn't you know it wasn't polite to keep people waiting?"

"Where am I?" I slurred out. I had been drugged. I didn't know how or when, all I knew was that at some point, I had been.

"You're right where you should be," he said.

Everything seemed whispered. Even my senses weren't working.

It was gone.

It was all gone.

Something was wrong with my powers; they weren't working.

_I_ would have been scared senseless. _I_ would have panicked. _I_ would have just laid there in terror, too afraid to move. But not Logan. The part of him in my mind took over and made me stay calm.

He made me push myself up.

He made me look around me, take in my surroundings. I needed to see where I was, see if there was a way out.

"I'm supposed to be in my motel room, and this ain't it, bub," I said.

He made me speak.

I heard the man laugh. But I couldn't see him. I was sitting on a concrete floor. There was a single, dull lamp shining just above me. Everything else was dark. He sat just outside of the light. Five, maybe seven feet from me. That much I knew.

"Jayden, you're far too beautiful to be talking that way. But I suppose you picked it up from your father, didn't you? So maybe I should talk to him about it instead?"

With that, there was a loud 'click' and fluorescent panels began to light up in the ceiling. One by one. Slowly revealing what had been hidden in the lights absence and I began to realize that I had seen the room before. I had had a vision of it, only I didn't know that it was a vision at the time.

Then I saw a man. He was blooded and bruised. He was spitting blood. His white undershirt was soaked in it. He was tied to a metal beam. He looked at me.

"Logan," I breathed out.

"Hey baby, everything's gonna' be all right," he said, his breath ragged.

"How sweet; father and daughter reunited once again," the man said. He was behind me. I heard him walk closer to me. "Why Jayden, you're shaking. What's wrong dear?" he whispered in my ear, running his hand down the back of my neck. I pulled away and looked up at him. The strange man squatted next to me and petted my cheek. I pushed his hand away. He gave me a sick smile before slapping me. Logan swore. The man pointed to him. "Unless you want me to hit her again, you'll keep quiet," he said, then looked back at me. "And if you want him to live, you'll be a good girl and cooperate."

"You can't kill him," I said. "He's indestructible. It doesn't matter what you do to him or me, because he'll just live and kill you all. He _can't_ die."

He grabbed a handful of hair from the back of my head and forced me to turn my head towards Logan. "Look at him!" he yelled. "Look at him! He's covered in blood, he can't breathe. Does _that_ look indestructible to you? You see that color around his neck? You see it? It's just like the one you have. You know what it does? It takes away your powers. Without your mutations, you're _weak_. He can't do _anything_. He can't even use those claws of his that he favors so much. Well, I suppose he could, but if he popped them out now, it would spear his intestines. He can't _save_ you. No one can."

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"Come on Jayden, you can come up with something better than that. That's what everyone says."

"How do you know me?"

He gave me an evil smile. "Now _that_ is a good question. _I_ don't know you," he said. I heard footsteps behind me. I heard them get closer until they stopped just behind me. The man smiled at the person behind me. "But my brother does."

He pulled my head back with the hair he still held clenched in his fist, forcing me to look up at the person behind me. "Ben?"

"Hello Jayden. How's your ankle?"

Logan swore at him, calling him names and bucked at the chains holding him down. Ben's brother punched me straight in the jaw. "I told you to stay quiet!" he yelled at Logan.

I turned my head and spit at him. A mixture of saliva and blood hitting him in the eyes. I threw up my elbow, hitting him in the shoulder. He let go of his hold on my hair. I jumped to my feet and let my instincts take over. They what to do better than me, and they did it without hesitation. My mind was panicking, but my muscles and reflexes were practiced for this.

I elbow someone in the jugular.

I punch someone in the nose. I hear it break.

I do a spinning jump kick and knock someone off their feet. I hear their head hit the concrete.

Some part of me processes the new men who keep appearing from the shadows to try to hold me down.

Some part of me understands that I'm outnumbered.

Some part of me enjoys the challenge.

A bigger part of me is loving the sick noises I'm producing from the strangers as I break bones with little effort, and send them falling to the ground. It's the music to which I danced, moving gracefully and easily through a throng of men much larger than me.

"Stop!" someone yelled and my gut told me to listen. I stopped and turned to the voice. As I did, I conceded my lead over the men there, who took the opportunity to grab hold of me. But I didn't care. I was facing towards Logan and Ben's brother was holding a knife to his throat. "If you make one more move, I will slit his throat. I don't think you would like that, would you?"

"What do you want?" I asked.

His was the nose that I had broken. It was split open and gushing blood. But it didn't deter him from continuing to smile at me evilly, a fountain of blood flowing down his face. He spit out a mouthful of it on Logan's face. "It's not about what _I_ want, it's about what _you_ want," he said. "You want your father to live, right?" I didn't say anything, I just stood there staring. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," he said. "If you want your father to live, then we're going to need your cooperation. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

He smiled at me, blood staining his teeth. "Good."

"But I want to know why you're doing this to me."

"We're not doing this to _you_," Ben said, joining me to my right. "We're doing this to _him_." He pointed to Logan.

"You got me, so let her go," Logan spit out.

"I'm afraid it doesn't quite work that way," Ben said. "You took something very precious from me now it's time for you to pay me back for it."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, bub. I haven't taken anything from you. At least not yet."

"Earlier this year, there was a break in at a lab in Glasgow, Scotland. Two men were caught, beaten, tortured, and eventually killed."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"I believe it was _your_ handiwork, Wolverine. Wasn't it?"

"What's it got to do with you, then?"

"They were my _brothers_. They raised me. And you killed them. Over some stupid medical samples."

"He didn't kill them," I blurted out.

Ben looked at me. "Are you going to try to take the blame for that one, Jayden? Because it won't work."

"No, he didn't _kill_ them."

"Is that what he told you?" He wiped at the blood on his mouth. "He _lied_ to you sweetheart. Because he _did _kill them."

"How do you know?"

He got up close to my face. "Because I _saw_ him. I watched him beat them and cut them open, hacking them apart. I had to watch him kill my family."

"And you didn't do anything about it? Doesn't that make you just as bad as him?"

"No!" he snapped. "He killed them, not me."

"But you didn't do anything to stop him."

"He was slicing them up like paper, torturing them, how was _I_ supposed to stop him?"

"Well you did now. How did you get to him this time?"

He gave me an evil smile that matched his brother's. "I'm glad you asked. I'm quite proud of it, actually. After he killed our brothers, I tracked him down and watched him. I saw you with him and thought you could help us get close to him. So I waited until I saw you alone. I waited _four_ months. That's when I saw you running. I pretended to bump into you and either you were too stupid or I was too good for you to see what I was really doing. You led me straight back to your home. And Wolverine. When you told me he was your father, I thought it was too good to be true. You were just what we needed. I tried so hard to get you completely alone, but you kept coming up with excuses. But I didn't give up. I kept waiting. And last night, I finally had my chance. It was pretty easy, actually. We had spent all of that time we were waiting on you experimenting with those medical samples we stole. One temporarily suspended the MutantX gene, that's what's in your collars. That's why your mutations aren't working. Another was a form of GHB. We just pumped it through the air conditioning vents and you were out for _hours_. You were easy. But Wolverine gave up a bit more of a fight. He came after you. He came to find you. He found some of our friends, instead. He did a number on them, too. But once he saw that someone was about to slit your throat, sort of how Josh is doing him right about now, he did what we told him to do. He took a pill filled with carbonadium. Do you know what that is? It's a lower form of adamantium, the metal on his bones. It was another one of the samples we stole. When he takes carbonadium, do you know what happens? It slows down his healing process. He takes the pill, he gets a shot of the same stuff that put you down, and he goes out too. Of course we had to remove the pill from his stomach before we put his collar on, but when we told him that we would kill you if he didn't cooperate, he decided it would be best if he let us put it on him. Then we had some fun with him, as you can tell."

"So you had your fun, why are we still here?" I asked.

"Because we're not done yet, we've only just gotten started."

"I'll ask you one more time; do you want your father to live?" Josh, the man holding the knife against Logan's throat asked.

"Yes," I said, my heart breaking.

Everything that was happing was my fault. I should have known something was wrong with Ben from the beginning. But I didn't. I let him get close to me, my family, and I had put not only my own life on the line, but Logan's as well. I screwed up and it was up to me to fix it.

"Good," he said. "Now take off your clothes."

"No!" Logan yelled at me. "If you touch her, I'll tear your freakin' throat out and kill every freakin' single one of you. I don't care if I kill myself doin' it, I'll gut every one of you!" He swore at them as he bucked against his restraints.

Josh pushed the knife tighter against his throat, 'causing the blade to break his skin and send new blood dripping down his neck, flowing over the collar they had fastened around him.

"Stop!" I yelled, tears threatening to flow from my eyes. "Don't hurt him, leave him alone!" I tried to pull away but the two men on either side of me had tight grips on my upper arms.

"Then do what I say!" Josh yelled back.

"Don't do it Jayden," Logan ordered.

"If you don't, I'll kill him," Josh replied.

"Then kill me. If I'm dead, she ain't got anything to worry about and then she'll kill you."

"No!" I yelled.

"Then do it. He killed two of my baby brothers while I watched; now it's his turn to see what it's like to watch someone you love suffer and not be able to do anything about it. To have to watch one of the most precious things in your life scream and cry in pain as someone hurts them. Although you killed two of ours and there's only one of her, I think we might find a way to make up for the difference," he said. "You know how the old saying goes; an eye for an eye."

"So you're going to kill me?" I asked.

Josh looked at me. He and Logan were no more than twenty feet away. He gave me another one of his sick smiles. "I haven't decided yet. It depends how much fun we can have with you."

"None," I said defiantly. "You'll have to kill me first. You're going to anyway; you've already made up your mind about it. And I'm not going to do anything for you or anyone else. If I go out, I'm going out on my own terms, not yours."

"If you refuse, I told you, I'm going to kill your father."

"You're going to no matter what though, aren't you? You're going to torture me, kill me and make him watch. Then you're going to kill him. You want him to suffer like you, so you won't just slice his throat. That's too quick. You want him to feel pain like you did. You won't kill him until he's hurt as much as you."

"No, I'll cut his throat. It's not how I would prefer him to die, but it'll do if it has to. And if you don't do what I tell you to, then we're just going to have to use some force, and we don't want to do that, do we? Take a look around you, honey; there's ten fully grown men, all bigger than you. If I tell them to, then they won't hesitate to get a little rough. But I really don't want it to come to that. Do you?"

"Look at the blood on your face. I'm capable of fighting off ten me, I just did. Or have you already forgotten?"

"That was before your father's life was on the line. Now be a good girl and do as you're _told_."

Logan's eyes locked with mine. I wanted to know what he was thinking, feeling. I wanted him to tell me what to do. But he was quiet. I was left alone with my racing thoughts. I was terrified.

"Don't be a hero; you'll just get yourselves both killed. Just do what we say and it'll all be over soon. Then you can go back home and everything will be fine," Ben whispered to me.

I felt my gut wrench and I forced back tears. I knew they wouldn't just let us go back home, but if I did what they wanted, it would buy us time. Time that I could use to think, to try to come up with a plan. Maybe there was a way for Logan and me to escape somehow.

I looked over at Ben. I had never felt a rage like I did then. I felt it burning me up inside. "Fine," I whispered back to him. "Do what you want. But when I get my chance, I'm going to personally kill you."

"Don't worry about it, because you're never going to get the chance," he said, staring me straight in the eye. "You're going to do what's best for everyone, so go ahead and take off your clothes. Our friends are getting impatient."

I looked back to Logan. "I'm sorry," I said to him. "Please forgive me."

"Don't do it baby. I'm old, it's right for me to die. Don't do this."

A single tear slide down my cheek. "I love you, Logan."

He closed his eyes. "I love you too, baby."

I did as they said. When I was done undressing, they pushed me to the ground. My skin scrapped and cut against the rough concrete.

Ben was first. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head up. He put his mouth against my ear. "I'm going to go slow so you feel it _all_," he hissed.

I gasped at the pain from things being done to me that my body wasn't ready for. But I didn't cry.

I didn't scream.

I didn't make a sound.

I didn't let them see me hurting, because that's what they want. Isn't it, Logan? And we don't give them what they want. _That's_ how they win.

I stared straight ahead, holding Logan's gaze, and breathed. That's what I focused on. Nothing else. I let everything going on _around_ me, in _front_ of me, and _to_ me just happen. And I just breathed.

Then the darkness came.

* * *

I woke to more darkness. I was handcuffed behind my back and somehow chained to one of the metal beams. I couldn't move.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," a voice said from the shadows. I pulled at my restraints and let out a growl. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to make sure you're okay."

"Why do you care?" I barked.

"Because you passed out. I told them to back off, they were wearing you out, but they didn't listen."

"Of course not. They were too busy raping and beating the crap out of me to listen."

"It's because you weren't making any sounds. This was supposed to hurt you and show much pain you were in. But you didn't say anything and that pissed them off. From now on, just give them what they want and they'll go easy on you."

"_Easy_?" I growled. "You think what you're doing to me is going _easy_? Well maybe you should all toughen up a little bit, because I'm not going to scream, or cry, or beg for my life. If that's what you want, you got the wrong person. You can do what you want to me, but you can't make me scream."

"_I_ didn't do anything to you, I'm not like that."

"Then how are you? Because no matter what you actually do, you're involved with a group of people who, if they ever live to make it there, will be sent to prison. You'll be convicted of kidnap, sexual assault, physical assault, murder conspiracy and I don't know what else. And maybe if you're real lucky, they'll charge you with breaking and entering and theft of official property for the theft of all the medical samples from the lab in Scotland. So tell me, what are you like?"

He moved closer to me until I could make out the outline of his face. "I'm here to make sure you're okay, I told you. I'm not allowed to give you anything for your pain, but I wanted to check your foot; it looked swollen."

"They punched and kicked me and beat me with belts; I'm betting a _lot_ of me is swollen."

He shook his head. "No, I think there's something wrong with it. I think you may have twisted it and hurt it somehow."

I looked down at my feet. They were bare, dirty and covered in dirt and blood as well as bruises and cuts. But my left foot was particularly swollen. "I sprained it earlier this summer. I was told it could sprain again easier if I wasn't careful on it. It's just a sprain, that's all."

"Then let me wrap it."

"Are you a doctor?"

"Sort of," he said, reaching out for my foot. I flinched and jerked it away when he touched it. "I'm not going to hurt you, just let me fix it." I finally allowed for him to look at it, but I didn't like him touching me, and every time he did, I jumped. "You have a pretty big cut on the bottom of your foot. I already told you that I can't give you anything for pain, but when I wrap it, it should keep germs and stuff out of it."

"Where's Logan?" I asked as he began wrapping my foot.

"Who?" he asked, looking up at me in the shadows. "Oh, you mean your father? He's in here, too. But you can't see him. The only time you'll be allowed to see him is-"

"When they're torturing me, so he can see it too?"

"Yeah," he said. "That's his punishment."

I shook my head. "Don't you see how wrong this is? Whatever you do to me won't bring those two men back. Nothing you ever do will."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

He finished wrapping the bandage and sat back, hiding his face from me. "Did you know that a long time ago, if a man or a woman was ever thought to be cheating on their spouse, they plucked their eyes out so that they couldn't wander? And in some countries today, when they catch you stealing, they cut your hand off? Did you know that?"

"Yeah, I've heard that."

"It's the same principle here. You kill a man's brother; he has the right to kill yours. But they couldn't find a brother. They found a daughter. You. It's called a vendetta."

"I know what it's called and I know that Logan didn't make the first move; you did. You stole some samples from that lab that meant a lot to him, a lot to other people."

"Were they worth killing over? Because they were my brothers too."

"How many of them are you?"

"There were five. Josh, Ben, Mark, Allen, and me. The other eight guys are friends of Josh and Ben. They do whatever Josh tells them to. And they'll kill you and your father, because they think it'll make it even."

"What do _you_ think? Do you really think that _this_ is right? I'm tied up, I can't move, I'm swollen and covered in cuts and bruises. Do you think that _any_ of this is going to make what you feel over your brothers deaths any better? Or do you think that they deserve to be remembered in another way? Do you think you should avenge their deaths on someone who had no idea about it and the man who was doing the only thing he thought was right to do? Or are you going to honor their lives? Remember them as they were? They were _your_ brothers; what do _you_ want for them?"

"I…I shouldn't…I shouldn't be talking to you. I'm not supposed to be, but I thought you might be lonely and scared. I have to go. When it's time for you to wake up, they'll come get you," he said and stood. I heard him begin to walk away.

"Wait," I called out. He stopped. "I'm Jayden."

"I know," he said quietly.

"Well, it's only right for me to know your name too, then."

He paused for a second. "It's Chris," he finally said. "Now get some sleep; you're going to need it."

As he left, he exited through a door to my back, but with the lights spilling in through it, I could see one of Logan's long legs stretched out. He was about fifty yards in front of me. As soon as the door closed, everything was once again veiled in darkness. But I felt better having caught a glimpse of him. Even as small as it was.

"How you doin' back there, darlin'?" he called out, almost as if he were reading my mind.

"I'm hurting back I'll live," I called back. "How about you?"

"Same."

"Are they watching us?"

"From what I can tell, no. But I ain't sayin' that for sure." He went quiet for a moment. "How're you feelin' aside from the pain?"

"I'm doing fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not dealing with it right now. I'll deal with it when it's all over. Right now I'm trying to think."

"About what?"

"Where we're at and how to get us out. Any thoughts on either one?"

"While you were out, I heard it rainin'. There was a storm rollin' through Westchester when we left."

"It was going north, so we're either still in New York, Connecticut-"

"Or Canada."

"Exactly."

"What do you wanna' bet Canada? Connecticut just don't seem like you'd be able to hide out a place this size without someone takin' notice to it."

"Okay, so we'll say Canada. If not, you owe me dinner."

"Deal."

"So we're in Canada. These guys have some idea about medical and chemical crap; otherwise they wouldn't have come up with these collars or the pill they made you take. Any idiot would know how to use GHB, but they wouldn't have been able to pump it through the air conditioning vents. Good idea on their part, since it's odorless and colorless, I never saw it coming."

"I don't think they all know what they're doin', though. A couple of 'em, maybe, but mostly they just do whatever the oldest one tells 'em to."

"No, but I don't think they're all completely stupid, either."

"I hope you're not countin' that kid that was just in here, 'cause I might argue with you on that one."

I gave a small laugh. "I don't think he's really on board with all of this, but I don't think he's stupid."

"You asked what his name was and he just gave it to you."

"Doesn't make him stupid, just human."

"And what was the whole point of the name swappin' anyway?"

"When you're kidnapped, people see you more as an object than a person. The point of telling them your name is to get them to see you as an actual person. If you can get them to open up to you, they have a harder time hurting you or letting other people hurt you."

"And where did you read this?"

"I don't know, a magazine article a long time ago, I think," I said. "Now how are we going to get out of here?"

"That's the one I've been workin' on."

"Have you tried contacting the Professor?"

"Yeah, didn't work. I think something in here's blockin' me from gettin' anything out to him."

"Probably."

"Which means they won't be able to find us usin' Cerebro."

"So we need to get a message out to Cyclops or Storm somehow."

"Without them findin' out."

"Which won't work."

"Probably not."

"Not unless you can get that little moron back in here and talk him into it somehow."

We were both quiet for a minute as we both thought. But I couldn't stand the silence. "How are you dealing without your powers?" I finally asked, happing for _any_ sound, even my own voice.

"I feel blind and deaf and I can't smell a freakin' thing. The pain's not so great either," he said. "How 'bout you?"

"Same," I said. "But everything's so quiet. I don't hear anything but the two of us talking. It's so quiet it almost hurts."

"I thought you wanted it to be quiet for a while?"

"So did I. But I don't feel _anything_. I don't even feel you."

"I'm right here."

"I know, but I don't…_feel_ you. There's no connection between us."

"Yeah there is."

"I don't feel it, though," I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. "I feel alone. It's so quiet. I don't feel anything, I don't hear anything, I can't even _see_ you."

"I know this is hard baby, that's why they're doin' it. You gotta' stay strong though, all right? 'Cause this is my fault and I'm gonna' figure out a way to get us outta' here."

"It's not all your fault; it took me too long to see that something was wrong with him. I should have felt it, but I didn't. You did and I just wrote it off as you not liking him. I should never have been anywhere near him."

"Yeah, but the only reason he was after you was 'cause of me. I killed 'em, it's my fault. And I'm sorry."

"Are you going soft on me furry-face? I can't handle a wimpy Wolvie. Cowboy up, get pissed, lose your temper, swear, make threats, spit, but don't apologize to me. When we get out of here, you can apologize and make it up to me. Deal?"

"Jayden-"

"Don't Logan. I'm not leaving here without you, so you better not do anything that would force me to make that choice.

He began to cough and I hurt at the sound of it. I waited for him to stop and then heard him spit. I knew he had to be coughing up blood.

He was starting to get sick.

The adamantium in his body put off poisonous toxins. Without his regenerative abilities, he would continue to get sick. We had to think of a way to get out and get the collars off, or he was going to die.

I felt something crawl across my right foot. Something that felt a lot like a cockroach and I cringed, shaking my foot to try to get it off. But even my fear of them wasn't quite as big as my fear of losing Logan. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Just peachy," he said sarcastically, giving one more cough.

"You can't die on me."

"Kid-"

"I'm serious Logan, if you die on me…"

"What're you gonna' do? I'll be _dead_," he said flatly.

"If you die, I'll tell everyone your last words were that you have secretly been in love with Scott Summers this whole time and you were just using Jean and Rogue as covers."

"You wouldn't."

"If you leave me and hurt me like that, then all bets are off and everyone at home will finally understand why you get so worked up around him."

"No one will believe you; everyone knows I hate him."

"What if you were just masking your love for hate? And then I'll fall into Scott's arms and tell him how you told me that even if you weren't brave enough to tell him how you _honestly_ felt about him, I should. I'll cry and he'll hold me, then we'll realize that we're both in love with each other and get married. I'll be sure to visit your grave everyday, of course. And I'll probably be depressed and try to kill myself a few more times. But hey, like you said; you'll be dead, you won't care."

"Well I sure ain't gonna' die now." I rested my head back against the metal beam and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible. It wasn't going so well. "You should probably try to get some sleep, I think you're probably gonna' need it."

I let out a sigh. "I guess you're right," I said. "Night Logan."

"Night Jayden."

"I love you."

"Right back at'cha, kid."

I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, but the silence was overwhelming.

"_I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places, that this heart of mine embraces all day through. In that small café, the park across the way, the children's carousel, the chestnut tree, the wishing well. I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day, in everything that's light and gay, I'll always think of you that way. I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new. I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you_," I sang to myself until I fell asleep.

I wanted to break the deafening silence. I couldn't stand it to be so quiet. But I knew that in the morning, I wouldn't make a sound. No matter what they did to me.


	17. Stronger

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything. I'm still sick and I'm coughing so much I keep getting light headed, so there might be even more spelling mistakes than usual. I apologize. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Wake up!" someone yelled before kicking me in my side. I involuntarily let out a growl. "So it _does_ talk."

I looked up at him. He was a tall, dark skinned man with a bandage on his right cheek and nose. There were also some bruises on his neck and arms. I promised myself that when I got the chance, I was going to do more than just leave him cut and bruised.

"Of course I talk, you freakin' moron, or are you new? Because I think I remember busting your nose and punching you in the throat. That or someone else beat the crap out of you."

He kicked me in the side again. "Shut up," he ordered.

"Wasn't it just ten second ago that you were marveling at the fact that I could actually talk? Now you want me to shut up? You really should make up your mind."

"Shut up!"

"Is that your final answer?"

"Stop playing around and get hurt up," someone said behind him.

"Yeah," I said looking up and then spitting at him. "Quit playing around."

He kicked me in the side once more. "I don't have the keys," he said.

"What do you mean you don't have them? I gave them to you last night," the man behind him said. I caught a small look at him. He was on the shorter side, but a big man. He had blonde hair and a thick beard and mustache.

"Seriously, can't he give you _any_ responsibility?" I said provoking him.

"Shut up!" he yelled, grabbing the hair on the top of my head and slamming it back into the metal beam behind me.

My vision went black and my ears rang. I blinked furiously trying to get my sight to return to normal. Once it did, I saw Chris squatting behind me. He was taking off the lock from my chains. He grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me up.

"Just do what they say and you won't have to go through so much pain," he quietly told me.

I looked him in the eye. "I'm doing what they say."

"Do what they _want_."

"Aren't they telling me to do what they want?"

"They want to hear you scream."

"That wasn't part of the deal. Besides, they all keep telling me to shut up, so I'm just doing what I'm told."

He stared at me for a second. "I don't want them to beat you to death, okay?"

"I said it yesterday; if I die I'm going on my own terms. If that means them beating me to death because I won't scream, then let them do it. That's one thing _I_ have control over."

"Chris, stop talking and _move_," Josh said.

"Just give it up and give them what they want," he whispered as he led me towards the group of men congregated in front of Logan.

"They want a show and I'm not going to give them one."

"Then you're stupid."

"No, I just have some self respect," I said as we stopped walking.

I looked at Logan. He was still covered in blood. Some old, some new. He had cuts and bruises all over him. And I knew he was sick. But never did he look weak. He still retained an air of snapping at any moment. I believed that if I didn't hurry in thinking of a way to get us out, he _would_ snap and end up getting himself killed.

He looked up at me and I shook my head while mouthing 'sush' to him. He nodded his head in agreement. I wasn't going to say anything and neither was he. I didn't know what our punishment would be, but I would live with it.

Ben took me from Chris. "You know, I think you actually _enjoyed_ yesterday, didn't you?" he said, a sick smile on his face. "But today we're going to do something a little different and we'll see how much you like it."

Two of the bigger men from the day before emerged from the shadows pushing a tank of water. I knew where this was going.

Ben forced me to my knees, kneeling in front of the tank. I could see Logan's face just over it. His eyes held helpless rage, but he didn't make a sound, just as I told him not to.

"But before we get to the fun," Josh said, squatting down in front of me. He ran his hand over the top of my head and back through my hair. "There's something we need to get rid of."

I heard a buzzing sound before I felt the cold metal of the electric clippers on my scalp. Then I felt my hair begin to fall away as they shaved my head. I tried to tell myself that it was just hair, it wasn't important, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking about the Nazi death camps in Germany. About how they would shave their heads before killing them.

I sat there quietly, kneeling in front of the water tank and I watched my reflection in the glass. Naked and nearly bald, my face not showing a sign of emotion, and I refused to give them the satisfaction of letting it faze me.

The buzzing stopped.

They were done.

I looked from my reflection up to Logan. He eyes locked with mine. That was the day he discovered they had killed Jayden. His daughter was no more. And he saw that in my eyes.

"Are you ready to play?" Josh asked.

I didn't say anything; I just kept my eyes locked with Logan's. Then they submerged my head in the water.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on keeping as calm as possible. I could hold my breath for two minutes any given time or longer if I concentrated.

"_It's ain't time to die_," I heard Logan's words ring in my head. Repeating itself over and over until it became my mantra.

I felt them lift my head from the water and I took a deep breath as soon as I could. I tried to pace them, getting in as much air as I could before they pushed my head down once more.

It wasn't my time to die. Not yet. And I was going to fight for it.

Time that felt like hours passed as they continued to dunk my head into the water, never letting me drown, but succeeding in thoroughly exhausting me. But even still, I didn't speak. The only sound they heard from me was when I was catching my breath.

"Why aren't you screaming?" Josh yelled angrily as he kicked me in my bruised side, where it felt like more than one rib had to be broken.

The kick caused me to lurch and hit my chin on the rim of the tank. My jaw slammed together and I bit through my lip. I spit out a mouthful of blood. I could feel it dripping down my chin, but ignored it and tried to get myself back up.

"We can do this all day long, can you?" Josh asked. I stared straight ahead and used the time to try to catch my breath. "We'll make you scream, one way or another, you're going to scream and cry and beg. Just like he did to my brothers."

I looked up at him. "Maybe your brothers were just _weak_," I said.

He punched me in the jaw so hard it knocked me over. I kicked with my legs to try to get myself back up, but before I could, he was on top of me, a look of insane rage written on his face. I tried to put up one of my knees to keep him off me, but Ben moved it for him.

For minutes I couldn't see anything but his fist punching into my face. Then I saw blood cloud my vision and I couldn't even see his hands. I felt him stop punching me and I thought it was over, but then I felt his lift my head and slam it into the hard concrete floor.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

I woke with a pounding headache and to the feeling of something wet on my head. I opened my swollen eyes to see Chris in front of me. I felt his hand touch my skin. I jumped and pulled away from him.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled.

"Cleaning you up," he said. "You were covered in blood."

I looked down at myself. "Why do I have my clothes on?"

"Because I talked them into giving them back to you."

"Why?" He didn't say anything. "Why?" I asked again.

"Because of what you said to Josh."

"That your brothers were weak?"

"Yeah."

"I don't understand."

"They gave up without a fight. You haven't. I thought you at least deserved your clothes back for that. Not that it'll make much of a difference."

"Hey, it does. Thank you."

"Just don't…_say_ anything about it, okay?"

I coughed out a laugh. "That's not a problem," I said. "How bad is the damage?"

He removed the wet rag from my head much to my relief and dropped it. I heard it make a small splash as it landed in a bowl of water.

The room was dark once again, with only shards of light sneaking in through cracks in the door and walls. My vision was even worse because of my eyes. I could feel them, they were swollen. But they felt much worse than that and I knew something had to be terribly wrong with them.

"Surprisingly you don't have a concussion. I'm not sure how that happened, but that's good."

"I've always been told I have a thick skull," I joked.

"The back of your head though is…"

"Like hamburger meat?"

"Yeah," he said. "And I think he broke one of your eye sockets. Your nose is broken. Your eyes are completely bloodshot and the skin around them is black. Your jaw was slightly out of place, but I pushed it back. Your mouth and chin is all busted up, though."

"And I have a botched hair job," I joked. "It doesn't sound too bad, though. Nothing time won't heal."

"You look terrible. You're swollen and covered in cuts and bruises. You don't even look human."

"I'm _not_ human," I spit. "I'm a mutant."

"You look mutated, sure enough. Just stop provoking him. _All _of them. You also have cracked ribs, too. I wrapped them under your shirt, but you're in bad shape."

"Every hour wounds; the last one kills."

"Well your last one may be sooner than you think. If you keep this up, they're going to kill you before the week's over."

"What day is it?"

"It's just turned Wednesday."

"Then I have three days left, don't I?"

"Don't do this."

"Why do you care?"

"Because I can't imagine Josh or Ben doing for me what you're doing for your father. You're sacrificing yourself for him. You're going through all of this pain and torture and humiliation for _him_. Why?"

"Because I love him. And I know he would do the same for me. He's my father and my best friend. I thought I lost him once, but he came back. If I get a choice, I'm not going to lose him again."

"No matter what it does to you?"

"No matter what it does to me."

"That's either brave or stupid, and I'm not real sure which."

"And I don't really care," I said. "Would _you_ do this for your brothers? For Josh and Ben? Would you switch places with your other brothers so they could live while you died instead?"

"Yeah, I think I would. I don't know if I would be like you, I would probably scream and cry, but I would."

"But they wouldn't do it for you?"

I saw him shake his head slightly in the dark. "No, they wouldn't. They love me, all of us, and if you hurt one of us, they'll make you pay for it. But when it comes down to being selfless and willing to sacrifice themselves for anyone, they don't do that."

"Then they don't love you. Because when you love someone, you'll do anything to never have to see them hurt. To protect them and keep them safe. To make them happy. Sometimes you fight and say things you don't mean, but you never stop _loving_ each other. If they wouldn't be willing to take some pain for you, but you would be willing to _die_ for them, then you're better off alone, because they don't love you. And they don't deserve your love, either."

"They're my family."

"Blood has nothing to do with it. It's the people involved that do. It's the people you _love_ that make your family."

"They're the only family I have."

"Maybe you should find another one. One that loves you and respects your opinion. They treat you like dirt and you just let them. You deserve better than them."

"And why do _you_ care?"

"Because you've been nice to me."

"How?"

"While everyone else is kicking me around, you're the one cleaning up after them. So thank you."

He shook his head. "Don't thank me, and don't mention it. As a matter of a fact, don't say _anything_ about what I do when I'm with you."

"If they see me tomorrow wrapped up and clean, they're going to know _someone_ was in here."

"While you're passed out, they're in and out of here."

"Doing what?"

"Nothing to you."

"What do they do to Logan?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Yes you should. The whole point of this was for me to take his place. I get hurt, they leave him alone. _That_ was the deal."

"No, the deal was that you would do what they wanted in exchange for them to keep him alive."

I bucked at my chains. "What do they do to him?"

"Nothing that he hasn't been taking like you; strong and quiet."

"I got it from him."

"It shows."

"What are they going to do to me tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly. I don't help them do what they do; I don't help them plan it. I just watch."

"Do you enjoy watching it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not like them."

"But you agree with what they're doing, right? You think that this is the right thing to do? You think that this will somehow make your brothers deaths worth it? But what happens when I die? What are you going to do then? Because I'll be gone and you'll all have to deal with the reality that they are, too. You won't have anyone else to pin rage and anger resentment on. Except each other. And who are they going to start blaming first?"

"I didn't do anything."

"But you just said that you weren't like them," I said. "I know what it's like to not fit in with your family. I didn't know Logan a year ago, and I was living with a family that didn't understand me. Everything I did was wrong, so I just learned to be like them. But I was miserable. I left home to find Logan. I've been living with him since January. When my parents came to visit me a few months ago, they thought something was wrong with me because I was acting differently, 'out of character'. But the honest truth was, I wasn't acting out of character, it was just the first time they had ever seen the real me. We don't talk very much. Actually, we hardly speak at all."

"Why?"

"Because they found out that I was different than them. People hate what they don't understand, and they don't understand something that's different from what they think and believe. They'll blame you first because you're different," I said. "But you shouldn't start being like them; you need to be you. I was never happy until I lived with Logan. It may have taken my family away, but it's given me Logan, who _understands_ me. Don't let _them_ hold you back."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"What makes you happy. Find someone who loves and respects and appreciates you and what you can do. Even if it's just _one_ person. It's better to have one person in your life who loves you unconditionally then ten who only like you for who you pretend to be."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I'm going to die in here, and my family that loves me will never know what happened to me or Logan. I want you to have a family that cares about you because I know how important it is to have one. They've taken care of me when I needed them; they've pulled me through the toughest times in my life. I know they're going to be worried about us, but you should find people who _do_ worry about you if something happens to you."

"Do you have a big family?"

"Yeah, pretty big. They're not my _real_ family, but it's the best one I've ever had. There's six teachers, not including Logan and me, and… I love them more than anything. And they're not going to know what happened to me. My teachers, my best friends…the man that I'm in love with." A tear slid down my cheek. "And I'm never going to get to tell them goodbye or not to worry about me."

"I…I might be able to get a message to them without Josh or the others finding out. But you can't say anything about it to anyone. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I said. "I understand completely and I swear I won't say anything."

I quickly told him how to contact the school and watched him leave. It was the only way I could think of for the team to find us. They could trace the message and find where we were and come after us.

"Not bad darlin'," I heard Logan say in the darkness.

"Yeah, well, I don't feel too good about it."

"How do you feel other than that?"

"Well," I said, trying to readjust myself to get more comfortable. "What I actually _feel _hurts like Hell. Most of me is swollen to the point of numbness, though. I'm just not sure if that's good or bad."

"I say not bein' able to feel anything is pretty good."

"I feel _some_ things. My stomach's revolting against me."

"They ain't been feedin' you?"

"No, you?"

"No. How about when we get outta' here, I'll get you whatever you want to eat?"

"Sounds good to me. How about a pizza?"

"If that's what you want, that's what you'll get. I promise."

I finally gave up on trying to make myself comfortable. It was going to work. "Do you think I did the right thing?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think I should have given him the number to the school? I mean, I just gave it over to a bunch of crazed lunatics."

"You gave it to one guy, who ain't too bright to begin with, and Chuck ain't gonna' let anything happen to the school while he's there."

"But when you were gone, you were scared to call home because-"

"I didn't think. If you'd been the one gone and didn't call and then gave me some crap excuse about not wantin' the school to get attacked, I would've been a heck of a lot more pissed than you were at me. You had a shot to do something and you took it. There ain't nothing wrong with that."

I let out a sigh. "Okay."

"Oh, and uh, by the way kid," he started, "happy birthday."

"What?" I asked confused.

"He said it was Wednesday, it's your nineteenth birthday."

"I completely forgot about it."

"Nineteen years ago today you came out silent and big eyed, lookin' around. You didn't cry like most babies do when they're born, you just looked up at me and blinked. You were a tiny little thing, too. But man, you were beautiful. I don't care too much for kids, you know that, and I think most babies ain't too pretty when they first come out. Takes 'em a while to get everything developed or something, or maybe they're just ugly, I don't know. But you were beautiful. I just couldn't stop starin' at you. Your momma was sayin' something about you needin' to cry to make sure your lungs were clear, or something and I didn't know what to do, but as soon as she said it, you started cryin'. Like you knew exactly what she was talkin' about. You did it just long enough to prove you were fine and then you stopped again." He paused for a minutes to cough. He was getting worse. He spit and caught his breath.

"I'm sorry I left you," he started again. "I wanted to keep you and I was too scared. Every woman I had ever been with had died, my wife and baby had been killed. I wasn't gonna' take that chance with you. Not after seein' you. I thought your momma was gonna' take care of you. I thought you were gonna' be happy. I didn't know she was gonna' hurt you like she did. I thought you were gonna' be better with her. One of the biggest mistakes I ever made was leavin' you. And I'm sorry baby. I really am. I just…I was scared I was gonna' lose you somehow if I was with you, if…I didn't just let go of you. I never thought you could end up any worse than with me. But we were both pretty bad without each other." I heard him cough again and then catch his breath. "I'm sorry about what I said the other night; you and Summers have nothing to do with me and I shouldn't have said what I did." He swore. "I got a habit or hurtin' you, don't I, kid? I don't mean to, it just happens that way. I'm sorry."

I was crying. "I know you don't mean to," I said. "And neither do I. I just get mad, we both do, and we say things we don't mean. I'm sorry about what I said, too." I let out a deep breath and tried to stop my tears from falling. "I don't care that you left me when I was born, because I have you now. I forgive you for leaving me because you thought I would be better off that way. You tried to take care of me. I forgive you." I blinked away the fallen tears from my swollen eyes and barely felt them slide down my bruised and battered cheeks. "And I love you, Logan. I love you."

"You too, baby."

I forced myself to stop crying and caught my breath. I promised myself I would cry later, but right then, I had to pull myself together.

"We're not going to die in here," I said strong and loudly. "They're not going to kill us."

"You got a plan?"

"Not yet, but I refuse to just let them kill me. If I die, it's going to be how I want. Not them."

"Then we'll get out of here."

"You promise?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. We both knew that it was a useless promise, but he made it anyway. And it made me feel better. That's why he made it to me. "What's your middle name?" he asked.

I smiled weakly to myself. "I'll tell you when we get out of here. Deal?"

"Yeah, deal."

I let out a sigh. "I'm tired."

"Get some sleep. We'll see what happens tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," I said. "Goodnight Logan."

"Night darlin'."

"Love you."

"Right back at'cha, kid," he said. "Happy birthday."

"_I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places, that this heart of mine embraces all day through. In that small café, the park across the way, the children's carousel, the chestnut tree, the wishing well. I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day, in everything that's light and gay, I'll always think of you that way. I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new. I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you_,"


	18. By My Side

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, Fox, or the title of the story, which is actually a Josh Groban song. I do love the song, though. These last chapters were really hard for me to write, so I would appreciate any comments and reviews, however small, to say if they work or not. In the past, I've been known for not being able to write action type scenes very well. I really tried to work on that for this one, but I don't know if I'm cut out to write action or not. Enjoy, though.

* * *

My punishment the next day was the same as the first. Only that time, I didn't pass out. I was awake for it all. My body was bruised and broken and it was hard for me to not make a sound as they handled me so roughly. But I didn't. No matter how bad it hurt, I didn't say a word. The abuse lasted hours, and when they got bored with it, they started hitting me. Punching, kicking, whipping me with belts. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But I just kept staring at Logan, and neither of us spoke. I didn't know which hurt worse; being me and having to go through it all, or being Logan and having to watch me go through it.

When they were done, they left. They left the room and they left me lying on the floor, cold and naked and in a pool of my own blood. I was handcuffed and in pain. I tried to sit up, but it felt impossible to do on my own. I finally gave up and just lay there, trying to breathe through my pain. I looked up at Logan, his eyes were closed.

"Are you dead?" I mumbled, pain pulsating through every part of me.

"No," he said.

"Why are your eyes closed?"

"Tryin' to be respectful, darlin'."

"Okay, just don't die," I mumbled tiredly.

"I won't," he said. "How you feelin'?"

"This is the first time I've laid down without someone on top of me in about three days," I said. "So not too bad."

"Good," he said. "Just try to stay awake, alright?"

"Why?"

"You don't need to go to sleep."

"_Why_?"

"You've lost a lotta' blood, baby, and you're still losin' some. You need to stay awake and alert. Alright?"

"I don't know if I can."

"You gotta' try."

I caught my breath, pulled all of my energy together and then finally rolled onto my back. I sat up, my back to him. "You can open your eyes now if you want; I don't think you can see anything." I heard him let out a string of swearwords, a growl biting through them all. "Do I look that bad?"

"I can't believe I let 'em do that do you."

"You didn't _let_ them. There's nothing you can do to stop them."

"Yeah there is. I can kill 'em," he said. I heard him bucking at his chains. I looked over my shoulder to see him trying to move his hands around.

"If you pop _one_ claw, you'll die. So don't even think about it," I said.

"I can't let 'em do this to you anymore. They're beatin' the crap outta' you and I'm just sittin' here watchin'. If I can get myself outta' here, I can get my collar off and I won't die. Then I can get us both outta' here and take us home."

I shook my head. "No. You _stab_ yourself and you're going to _die_. You won't come back, you won't have time to get your freakin' collar off, you'll be _dead_. And I'll have no reason to live. I can't go back home without you and I'm not going to. I can't live without you and you're not going to make me. I can take this; it's just a little pain. I can't take you leaving me, because you're my heart. You take it away, and I die. So if you die, then I die, too."

"You're bein' stubborn."

"And who do you think I got _that_ from?"

"So it's all my fault?"

"It usually is. You should be used to it by now," I said right before the door opened and Chris walked in.

"How do you feel?" he asked, crouching down beside me.

"Hungry," I answered.

"That's it?"

"You haven't fed me since I've been here. I'm not one of those girly girls; I actually like to eat food."

"I'll see what I can do. But let's get you dressed for now."

He pulled me up and helped me to get my pants on. The he paused, holding my shirt in his hand.

"Hey bub, you better find something else to stare at real quick," Logan threatened. Even tied up and bloody he sounded tough.

"I'm sorry. I'm not…I'm not staring at her. I'm trying to figure out how to get her shirt on."

"Well most people put their head through one hole and their arms through the other two," Logan replied sarcastically.

Chris looked at him. "And most people don't have their hands handcuffed behind their backs, either," he retorted.

"Then un-cuff her."

"I can't."

"How did you get my shirt on last night?" I asked.

"You were passed out, so I took your cuffs off. But you're conscious. I can't take them off now."

"Why? I'm not going to do anything. I think you've all made it perfectly clear that if I do, you kill him," I said, tossing my head back at Logan and feeling more pain surge through it as I did. "I'm not going to be stupid and get him killed."

"I don't know."

"Is there anyway you can switch them, then? These are cutting off my circulation and I can't do everything they want me to because my arms are being pulled so close together. Do you have anything with a longer chain maybe?"

"Yeah, we have some with longer chains. I'll get them for you when I go to get your food."

"Thank you," I said.

"How do I know you ain't gonna' poison her food?" Logan asked.

"I won't."

"How do I _know_?"

"You don't," I said. "It's called trust Logan. He's given me no reason not to trust him so far." I looked over at him. "Do you want to show me a little bit of that trust, Chris? You have a gun in your pocket, I don't. You trust me not to do something stupid, and I trust you not to shoot me. Okay?"

He stared at me for a moment before looking down at the gun in his pocket. "Okay, but hurry. I don't want anyone to catch me," he said before pulling a key from his pocket.

He worked on the lock for a few seconds before I felt the cuff fall free of my right wrist and I immediately felt the urge to kick his feet out from under him and take his gun away. But I promised him I wouldn't and something in my gut said to stick to it. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I was delirious from lack of blood and food. But sixteen years with a highly keen intuition taught me to listen to my instincts when they said something. Every rational thought and sense of reasoning in my mind screamed for me to take my opportunity. But my intuition screamed no, to wait. This wasn't the right time.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

"Okay, now I'll go find you some longer cuffs and something to eat," Chris said, locking my hand behind my back once again, after dressing me in my shirt.

"Thank you," I said, sitting down with my back towards Logan.

I watched Chris leave through the same door he came in and closed my eyes, trying to imagine being somewhere other than there. I wanted to be at home, sitting in the kitchen with my family. Warm and clean. I just wanted to be anywhere but there and I had passed on our chance to get out. I was sure Logan was furious.

"At least we know now that they ain't watchin' us," he said.

I carefully turned towards him, feeling pain every time I moved. "Aren't you mad?" I asked.

He shook his head. "You made a promise. You said you wouldn't do anything and you didn't."

"My instincts told me not to," I said trying to defend myself, even though he wasn't attacking me.

"Then you did right."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "What did I do?" I muttered. "What did I do? What did I do? I just made a mistake. I made a _big_ mistake. Oh, I'm so sorry Logan. Why did I do that?"

"Shh, calm down and breathe. Don't cry, you ain't got no reason to cry for what you did. You got instincts, they're tellin' you no, then you listen."

I was crying but could barely feel it. "I screwed up. My powers don't work, there's nothing for me to listen to. It's all quiet, everything's quiet. What am I listening to? I screwed up. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Stop cryin', you didn't screw up. You ain't got to have your mutation workin' for you to feel your instincts. Don't apologize for what you did, and don't cry over it either. Do you hear me?"

I nodded and forced myself to stop crying. "Yeah, I hear you," I said.

I stood up, walked over to him and sat down beside him. I lay my head on his shoulder and felt him kiss the top of my bald and bruised head. I wondered if it would be the last time I felt him touch me.

"He didn't have the key anyway," he said.

"What?"

"He doesn't have the keys to take off our collars. If you would've taken him down, it would've been pointless 'cause you can't take on ten other guys with guns. We'll think of something else, okay? We'll think of another way out."

I nodded gently. "Okay," I said my tears dry and gone. "How bad do I look without my hair?"

"Not bad at all."

"Liar."

"I'm not lyin'. You look beautiful without it."

"You are to lying. I look terrible, don't I? I always thought I'd look like a weasel without hair. And that's what I look like, isn't it?"

"You look like a beautiful weasel."

I smiled for the first time in days. "When was the last time you saw a beautiful weasel?"

"Honestly kid, I've never seen one at all. Except on TV. Didn't look like you, though. Not the ones I saw." I snuggled closer to him, relishing every second I had with him. "Now can you feel me?" he whispered.

I nodded. "A little," I said. "Just not in my head."

"I'm right here."

"I know. I missed you." I let out a sigh. "I'm scared," I admitted.

"Of dyin'?"

"Yeah," I said. "It was different when I tried to commit suicide because I was doing it myself. I chose how I was going to die. I went to sleep and that was it; I thought I would die like that. But I don't have any control over this. I don't get a say. I don't have control over anything here."

"You have control over how you react. You have control over what they do to me. You have control over whether you're gonna' survive this, or just roll over and die. You got a lotta' control, you just gotta' know how to use it. And don't worry about dyin', 'cause you ain't gonna' die 'til you're old and ready. Not now."

"You can't either."

"I'm already old."

"Not old enough to die. Why can't we die together? That way, neither of us has to miss the other one. Okay?"

"Okay. You and me, kid. You and me together."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

Over the past three days, I had come to hate the feeling of someone touching me. Unfamiliar skin had assaulted my body and stole everything innocent left in me. They had stripped me and beat me, killing the person on the inside, no matter how desperately I clung to her, and left nothing but a tough shell. I had yet to deal with everything that was happening to me for fear of getting distracted by my ultimate goal of escaping. But the feeling of sitting beside Logan, with my head on his shoulder was the most comforting thing I had ever felt. His touch was welcomed. Because it meant safety and love. I needed his touch, however small it may have been, because it meant that no matter how terrible and cruel the world was to me, he would always love me. And I needed his love more than anything right then.

"I don't think you're supposed to be sitting beside him," Chris said, walking back into the room.

I looked up at him. "Please just…let me stay here for a little while." I nodded to the plate in his hand. "Just until I'm done eating at least, okay?"

"I don't know."

"It's not hurting anything. Neither of us can move very much, and even though I can, I'm too tired. I just want to eat."

He thought for a minute. "Okay, fine. But don't tell anyone."

"We won't."

He sat down in front of me and I caught a glimpse of the plate he was holding. It didn't look like food. It looked like slop. But right then, even slop looked good to me. He fed me and as I chewed, I felt everything in my face shift. Bones had definitely been broken and I could feel where he had set my jaw back into place. The muscles in my jaw were tired and sore from where I had clenched them and ground my teeth together in my attempts to keep myself silent. Everything hurt so badly as I chewed, I didn't even have time to pay attention to how terrible the food was. When half the plate was empty, I stopped him.

"Give him the rest," I said.

"I'm not takin' your food darlin', so you better eat it."

"I'm not eating the rest of it, so you better take it. It may be the last time you get to eat."

"I'll be fine."

"No you won't. Just eat it or it's just going to go to waste."

"It already _is_ waste."

"Didn't seem too bad to me."

"Yeah, well, with the way you cook, I ain't surprised."

"I am _not_ a bad cook. Not anymore, anyway, so just shut up and eat it."

"Or what? You're handcuffed; you can't do anything."

"I'll head-butt you." He looked over at me and cocked a bloody eyebrow at me. "I'm dead serious."

"You're gonna' head-butt me 'cause I won't eat?"

"Yes, so just eat the freakin'…_stuff_, and make me happy."

"Fine," he finally said, giving in.

I took advantage of every second I could with him. Just feeling him beside me renewed my strength and gave me enough courage to make it through another night. The food wasn't enough to fill either one of us up, but it briefly stopped the hunger pangs in my stomach. And when he was done, I had to leave him. Chris placed my new set of handcuffs on me before removing the old ones. They gave me an extra four or five inches. Then he chained me down.

I didn't know how many hours had passed since I had been woken. I didn't know if it was day or night. I didn't know if we had truly been there for three days or if it had been longer. Everything was confusing. There was only one thing that kept me hanging on.

"Chris," I called out just before he left. "Did you tell my family goodbye for me?"

He stopped at the door, sixty or more yards away. His back turned towards me. "No. I called but no one answered."

"Can you try again? Just once?"

I saw him shake his head slightly. "No. I did what I could. I'm sorry."

He left the room and just seconds after he did, the lights went out and the room was cast into darkness. The light was gone and so was my hope of being rescued.

* * *

The next day I was woken and led to the blood stained section in front of Logan. I was tired and wearing down, just like they wanted. I felt pathetic. I couldn't even deal with three days of pain. I was sure that I would break soon.

They didn't say anything. They never even spoke to one another. But by how they moved and positioned themselves, I gathered that they had planned it out before hand.

Josh spoke only once. After two of the younger, bigger men held me down, he produced a knife from his pocket. "This is going to hurt. And you're going to want to scream. But you won't, will you? You're just going to sit there and take it. And when we're done, it won't matter what you say or don't say, we'll all know what you are. And you'll know that you chose to let us do this to you, you wanted us to. All for an old man who's just going to die anyway." Then he took the knife, pressed it into my forehead and began to cut into my skin.

He was right; I did want to scream, but I did. I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. I balled my hands into fists, grabbing my shirt and tried to squeeze out the pain.

The knife was full. He pressed harder to get it to do what he wanted. He carved into my skin. I felt blood run down my forehead before it ran into my eyes. After much effort on his part, he stopped.

Then he handed the knife to Ben. It was his turn.

All ten of them took turns carving into the skin on my forehead. When they were done, I was dizzy with pain and near throwing up.

My body shook, trying to alleviate the pain. It didn't work.

But still I was silent.

I stared at Ben, blood flowing in my eyes. He smiled at me, looking genuinely happy, not sadistic. Like a child who had just unwrapped his last toy on Christmas morning to discover that it was exactly what he wanted. There was joy shining in his eyes. And I knew it was because of the hate shining in mine.

"How do you feel sweetheart? Do you think all of that pain is worth it? Do you think he deserves the love and loyalty you show him? He lied to you about killing our brothers, what else has he lied to you about?"

"Maybe he didn't lie to me about your brothers. Maybe he just didn't tell me about them because they weren't worth the pain. Two stupid criminals who were too dumb to cover their tracks. They led him straight to them. He had fun ripping them up, but nothing to call home about. Because they weren't important. They meant nothing to him. Maybe he didn't lie about the; maybe he just had better things to talk about," I spat, a blood soaked smile spiking my lips.

Ben bent down and roughly raised my face to his. "You're going to rot in Hell," he said.

"You don't _rot_ in Hell, you _burn_ there. Which is exactly what you're going to do," I said, spitting in his face.

He wiped the spit from his face and stared into my eyes. "You should watch your mouth little girl, because you don't know what you might get yourself into," he hissed.

"What? Do you want to mark me some more? Go ahead. Do what you want to me. I don't care."

"You know what? I believe you. I believe that no matter what we do to _you_, you'll take it. But _him_," he pointed to Logan, "you don't like it when we hurt him, do you?"

"That wasn't the deal," I said. "You _touch_ him and I call the whole thing off. If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

I heard their laughter echo through the room. "You can't do anything honey; you're handcuffed and beaten," he said, giving me a kick in the ribs. "You'll do what we want and you'll sit there and watch us as we _do_ what we want. And it's all your fault because you don't know when to keep your mouth shut."

He tossed the same knife that they had been using on me to Josh. I watched through blood clouded eyes as he started cutting into Logan's skin. Once they did, one of the older men pulled me up and pushed me forward, closer to Logan. They cut into his side and I saw blood begin to flow from it.

"No!" I shouted. "Stop!"

"So now you want to scream, huh?" Ben said, grinning wildly.

"Leave him alone!" I yelled as Josh kicked him in the side where he had just cut him. I heard ribs break. Tears ran furiously from my clouded eyes. Part of me was scared that they would kill him and another part of me was enraged by the fear. My body shook with terror and pain and anger.

"So that's what makes you cry, huh? Hurting him? Well that's good to know. We know what to do now, don't we? Why don't you cry some more for us?"

Josh stabbed Logan in his upper left thigh. I watched him struggle with holding back a howl of pain.

"You have _me_!" I yelled. "_Me_! I don't care what you do to me, just leave _him_ alone!"

The ignored me and they beat him.

I cried.

I screamed.

I let them see me hurting.

They were killing him. They were taking him away from me. I saw it and something inside of me refused to accept it.

I pushed my shoulders together, feeling the double joints pushing them further back than they should go. I dropped my wrists and popped my knees back. I then jumped over the chain of my handcuffs, bringing my hands to the front. I slung the chain around one of the men's neck and pulled until I heard him begin to choke.

"Stop," he choked out. "Stop!"

Everyone around stopped and stared at us. Eyes of wonderment studied me, curious to how I had gotten the upper hand. "I'll kill him; I'll choke the freakin' breath out of him if you don't let him go. Do you hear me? _Let him go_."

I felt a prick in my neck.

Something hot ran into my veins.

Then everything faded to black.


	19. Rescue Me

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or Fox, but I'm almost done with the story, so I hope ya'll like it. Enjoy this chapter.

* * *

I blinked.

I saw white.

I blinked.

I saw a chair.

I blinked.

I saw a noose.

My head rolled heavily on my neck as I fought to keep my eyes open. I looked around. I was in a white padded room. There was a noose hanging from the ceiling between two panels of fluorescent lights and a chair sat beneath it.

I was sitting on the floor, in a corner. My hands were free; there were no handcuffs or shackles. I stood, hobbling on my sprained foot over to the single chair in the small room. There was a note.

'_Starve_ _to death or hang yourself. You choose_.'

I was dizzy, confused and scared that Logan was dead. My body was wracked with pain. And I had no idea what to do.

I paced the room for what felt like hours. Back and forth. Back and forth. Every part of me hurt somehow, but I didn't focus on the pain. I focused on making a plan. It felt like it took forever for the fog to lift from my mind, and even still, I felt as if I couldn't think clearly.

I stopped and sat in the chain. I looked around me. It was all the same; white padding. The walls, the floor, they were all covered. Even the spaces between the lights in the ceiling were padded.

It was blank.

I didn't know what to do.

It was white.

I was uninspired.

It was covered.

I had an idea.

Behind the padding, there had to be a vent of some kind. Maybe even one big enough for me to crawl through. And vents had to lead somewhere. Maybe it could lead me to Logan.

I bent my head low, trying to keep myself from getting sick. I was light headed. I had lost a lot of blood, been drugged and had very little to eat and nothing to drink. It was starting to get to me.

The lights blinked above me and I looked at them and smiled. They were the answer I was looking for.

I stood up on the chair and took off my shirt. I put it in my mouth and then began pulling myself up the rope as far as I could. I put my foot inside the loop of the noose to steady myself. I took my shirt and wrapped it around my fist. I turned my head, closing my eyes, and punched out one of the fluorescent lights. The glass busted and I felt it shatter around me, falling in shards. The panel I had punched still had glass attached to it. I broke off a large, sharp piece and carefully climbed down from the rope, back onto the ground. I shook out my shirt, trying to get all of the glass off it before I pulled it back on.

It was time to get to work.

I took the glass and stabbed the padding in the wall, dragging the shard down, cutting it open. Then I began ripping. I frantically tore at it.

Padding.

Concrete.

Padding.

Concrete.

Padding.

Concrete.

I pulled and ripped and tore, my knuckles bleeding from scraping them against the rough concrete walls. I fell to the floor and tried to catch my breath. It was ragged. I was still dizzy and my furious and urgent moves did nothing to help the fact.

I sat with my knees to my chest and my head bowed between them. I tried to calm my breath using the techniques Logan had taught me while training me. But there had never been a real emergency. Everything had always been simulated.

Hypothetical.

Fake.

There had never been a real sense of urgency. But my life was on the line and for all I knew, Logan was already dead.

I stood back up. I couldn't waste anymore time. I wasn't going to stop until I had found what I was looking for or had torn the room apart looking.

So I did.

I ripped it apart. Looking for something. Anything.

I didn't think about my pain, I just moved. My instincts told my mind. And my mind told my muscles. And my muscles did what they were told.

Padding.

Concrete.

Padding.

Concrete.

Padding.

Concrete.

Padding.

Air.

I felt air blowing.

I pulled at the padding faster and more furious than I had been.

I saw light. A dull, dim light.

It was a window.

I pulled the chair underneath it. I stood up and looked out. It was dark. I lifted the pane with a bit of a struggle, but the window itself was too small for me to fit through. It was only about a foot and a half high by two feet wide. I felt a breeze blowing and I could hear rain falling.

I breathed in the fresh air and suddenly I felt a rush of panic hit me. Escaping was so close. I could feel it; I could reach out and touch it. Yet I couldn't have it.

That was it; I _could_ reach out and touch it. I carefully stuck my hand through the open window and swept the ground with it.

_I feel something rough and hard. It's rusty metal_.

I curled my fingers around the metal object and pulled it through the window, trying hard not to make a sound. It was a rusted metal bar. About a foot long and roughly twenty pound. My gut told me it was a good thing.

I quietly closed the window and pulled the loose padding over it, then pushed the chair against it to keep it tight. I didn't know if there were people posted outside the building, but if there was, I didn't want them to be able to see light coming from my room.

I held the piece of metal in my hand tightly as I looked around the room. There was only wall I hadn't touched the padding on. I assumed that that's where the door was.

I took the glass I had been using to cut with and walked to the only untouched wall. I went in a direct line from where I had found the window and made a small cut in the cushioned fabric. I then began to pull it away. I dug through layers of padding, clawing with my dull and ragged fingernails. I clawed and dug until I hit what I had been looking for; sheetrock.

I took the piece of metal, brought it back and swung it into the sheetrock.

It left a hole.

I swung again.

Another hole, but bigger.

I swung once more.

There was a hole the size of a softball in the wall.

I stopped.

Then I waited.

It didn't take long for one of the men to come. And when they did, I was ready.

He stepped into the room, and looked around. He swore, asking what I had done to it. Then with amazing silence, I swung the metal rod and hit him in the back of the head. He was dead instantly, which was no accident. I knew right where to hit him. And I did. The padding still left on one wall and the floor absorbed the only sound, which was of his body fall to the ground. But I didn't stop there. I picked up the piece of glass I had been using and ran it across the soft flesh of his throat. Red blood poured from him and it seemed to satisfy me.

I searched over his body quickly and quietly. He had two sets of keys, a switchblade knife and a gun. All of which I pocketed. It wasn't time to learn how to shoot a gun, though. It was time to do what I had been trained for and taught how to do. There was no room for error.

It was time to kill.

I waited by the open door until two more men came. I took them both out just as quickly and quietly as the first man. I slit both of their throats and searched them as well. When I had taken everything I needed from them, I took away something they wouldn't need again. I took one of the new weapons I had found and took away their weapons. I castrated them.

There down, seven to go.

I walked from my cell without a sound and made my way down the hall, killing every man along the way. They were all quiet as they went down. A blow to their head, a cut to their throat.

Quiet.

Quick.

Except for the castrating. They had taken their time with me, enjoying every moment as they raped and forced me to do things I didn't want to do or wasn't ready for. So I took my time.

And I enjoyed it.

I killed three more in the hall just by beating them in the back of their heads. That left four more: Two men I didn't know. And Josh and Ben.

I met the other two men coming from a hallway. They had been calling for someone named Randy. He, being dead, obviously didn't answer. So they had gone looking for him.

Instead they found me.

They both reached for their guns, but I got to them before they did. I hit one of them in the head and he went down, but didn't die. The other one tried grabbing me from behind. I rammed my elbow into his gut. I spun around. I stabbed him in the neck with the metal pole in my hand. I pulled it out, swung it into his head and he fell to the floor next to the other man. I hit them both over the head, smashing into their skulls until there was nothing but bits of broken bones and gore. All of which I was covered in.

I heard a footstep.

I looked up.

I saw Josh.

He reached for the gun in his pocket, but I pulled mine faster. It was a good a time as any to learn how to shoot one.

I aimed for his stomach and pulled the trigger. I felt the handgun kick in my hands and heard a 'whack' as it hit him. He stumbled back a few feet before falling down. The sound of the gun was just enough to lure Ben out of his hiding.

I shot him too.

He fell.

Josh had rebounded enough to get a hold of his gun. He aimed it at me, and I shot off his hand. The whole thing. One shot to his wrist blew it and the gun away.

They were both still alive. Bleeding and dying, but not quite there yet.

Josh put up his only hand. "It wasn't my idea," he cried. "Please don't kill me. It wasn't my idea."

"Then who's was it?" I asked, my voice not sounding like my own. It was so cold.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with genuine terror. "It…it was Ben's. It was all his idea. He's been obsessed with you ever since he saw you running. You were all he ever talked about. It was his idea to do this to you."

An enraged Ben attempted to lung at him. I shot him again. Taking off his hand, too. He cried out in pain and fell back to the floor, holding his bloody stump.

"I don't care whose idea it was; you went along with it," I said, turning the gun on Josh.

I pulled the trigger.

I shot him in the head.

I killed him.

Then it was Ben's turn.

He was on the floor, crying. He begged for his life. I ignored him. Instead, I bent down to him, grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled his head up. I looked him right in the eye. He was terrified. I smiled.

"I'm going to go slow, so you feel it _all_," I hissed into his ear.

And I kept my word.

I went slow as I dismembered him. Taking him apart piece by piece. And I enjoyed every second of it.

Finally he stopped begging for his life.

He begged for me to end it.

So I did.

I stood and looked around me. The hall was littered with dead bodies. The bodies of men that I had killed. And I was covered in their blood.

I took the keys I found from Josh and Ben and started running down the hall. Between his sobs of pain and crying for me to let him live, Ben told me that Logan wasn't dead. Not yet. After my little show earlier that morning, they had taken their rage out on him. That coupled with the fact that his adamantium was still making him sick didn't give him much chance of survival. Not unless I could find him.

I ran down dark and dank halls. One after another, they felt endless and I worried that I wouldn't find him soon enough. So I ran faster. Checking every door on the way.

Then I found him.

"Logan," I called, a mix of relief and panic washing over me.

He looked up as I ran to him. His face was a bloody mess. He was almost gone.

"What…how'd you get here?" he mumbled.

"I got out. I killed them," I said, dumping all the keys from my pocket onto the floor.

"How?"

"Just like you taught me," I said. "At least now you know how being double jointed can come in handy; you can slip out of handcuffs a lot easier."

He gave a small laugh that ended with a cough. "You're not gonna' let me live that one down, are you?"

"I might, if you just stay alive for me."

I fumbled around with the keys, trying to find the right one and unlock him. I felt him slip closer to death every second it took me. I tried to pick up my pace, but my hands and fingers were bloody and torn. I kept going; key after key they were wrong.

Until finally I found the right one. I hurriedly unwrapped his chains and then used the key Ben had told me was to his handcuffs to un-cuff him. Then I took off his collar. Ben had also had the keys to both of ours, but I wasn't concerned with mine. If Logan didn't get his off right then, he was going to die.

I felt a pain surge through my shoulder and I fell over. I rolled onto my back and looked up.

It was Chris.

He was holding a gun.

He had shot me.

"You know, they say you never hear the one that gets you. I guess they were right," he said.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pushing myself up. I tried to ignore the pain in my left shoulder as blood poured from it.

"You killed my family."

"It was that or die myself, and let them kill my family, too. You don't want to kill me Chris. You don't want to do that."

"Yes I do."

"No you don't. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you're not like them. You said that yourself, _you_ told me that. You didn't want this to happen this way, did you? You've never done anything to hurt me Chris; I have no problems with you. If you kill me, you'll be sent to prison for murder. _Murder_. Can you survive prison for the rest of your life? Because that's how long you're going to be in there. Can you handle knowing that you kill someone? That you killed me?"

"You killed my family," he repeated.

"So you're going to kill me for them? They wouldn't even die for you, you told me that. Josh threw Ben under the bus, trying to save himself." I stood up and started walking closer to him. "Are you willing to go to jail for them Chris? Are you willing to give up your life for them? Everything that you've done and built up until this point, are you just going to throw it all away with the pull of a trigger?"

"Shut up," he said. "And don't walk any closer."

"Chris," I said, holding up my hand. My shoulder hurt and burned but I kept it up. I wanted him to calm down and realize I wasn't going to hurt him. "Come on Chris-"

"Stop saying my name!" he yelled.

"Is this worth it?" I asked. "Come on, is this worth it? Am _I_ worth it?"

He pointed the gun at me once again. "Yes," he said.

I closed my eyes.

I heard the shot.

I didn't feel any pain.

I opened my eyes and saw Chris holding his stomach. Blood was pouring from it. He looked up at me. "It hurts," he said. "I can't believe how bad it hurts."

"It's gonna' hurt a whole heck of a lot more in about ten seconds." I looked over at him. He was almost healed completely and holding the gun I had taken from one of the dead men. He had shot Chris. He pulled himself up and walked over to him. "Close your eyes darlin', you don't need to see this."

I did as he said and closed my eyes.

I heard the 'snikt' of his claws.

I heard him impale flesh.

I heard Chris scream.

I heard him cry.

I heard it all stop.

I felt Logan's hand on my arm. "You're bleedin'," he said. I opened my eyes and saw him pulling off his shirt.

"It's fine."

"Let me look at it." He spun me around and I felt him wipe the blood from my shoulder. I gritted my teeth at the touch of his hand on my wound. "It went clean through. You'll be fine but we gotta' get you outta' here; you need a doctor."

"I don't know where we are. I didn't ask any of them, I just killed them," I said as he wrapped my shoulder with his shirt in order to try to stop the bleeding.

"It's fine, you did good baby. We'll figure it out." He finished trying off the shirt. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

We left the room and began running back down the long corridors. When we arrived in the hall where I had killed the majority of the men, the smell of death assaulted my nose. An overwhelming scent of blood and gore filled my nostrils as I was hit with the sudden realization of what I had done. But my body was pumping too much adrenaline for me to stop and fully recognize it.

"You killed 'em all?" Logan questioned, stepping over bodies.

"Yeah."

"There's only seven of 'em here, where's the other three?"

"In the cell where they were keeping me. I killed them first."

"Good. Do you know if there's anyone outside?"

"No. I found a window in my room, but it was too high for me to see out. And even if it wasn't, it was too dark."

"That's fine; we'll take care of it when we get to it. We gotta' find a way to get in touch with Chuck."

"There weren't any phones in the rooms that way," I said pointing to the way from which we had just come. "But I've not checked anything down there. I was looking for you."

"Alright. You got the gun; you know how to use it?"

"Aim and shoot."

"Pretty much. You take the left side of the hall and I'll take the right. You see anyone, you shoot 'em, got it?" I nodded. "You find a phone or anything, yell at me and call the school. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Then let's go."

The two of us split up and began searching rooms. Most were empty, some had beds. There was also a kitchen and a TV room. We were working our way to the front of the building as quickly as possible. Going through the rooms one by one.

"I got a phone," Logan called out.

I rushed from the room I was in and tried to find him. I first ran down the hall, thinking that's where I had heard his voice coming from. He called my name again. He was in the other direction. I ran to him. I saw him in the hall, running towards me.

"Did the phone work?" I asked.

"Yeah, Chuck said Cyclops and the team are in the jet not too far away from here."

We both turned and continued running towards the exit once again. "How did they know where we were?"

"That idiot Chris guy actually called and told 'em we were gonna' make it and that you wanted to tell 'em bye and that you loved 'em."

"I thought he said he couldn't get in touch with them?"

"He either lied or kept tryin' 'cause they tracked his call."

"So how are they going to find us?"

"They're not, we're gonna' find them. Chuck traced the call. There's a river just outside the building. We gotta' cross it and go down it about four miles, then we gotta' go through the woods. There's a clearin' where Summers is gonna' put the jet down. You gonna' be able to handle that?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

I continued to run beside him. "Do I look like I can't?"

"Honestly? Yeah, you look pretty worn out."

"Right now I don't feel much of anything. I'm moving and that's all that matters. I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

"It's kind'a hard not to, darlin'."

"Don't think about it, then. Just keep running."

And we did. We ran all the way out of the building, onto the grounds, and out onto a small road. There was a Jeep parked on it.

"Get in," he ordered. I did. He followed right behind me. He took a look at it. It was a straight-shift. "It's a stick. When I start it, I need you to put it in gear, you remember how?" I nodded. "Good."

He popped a claw and stuck it in the ignition. Then started it. I put it in gear when he told me to and then we drove. We didn't speak, we just kept driving, and we both used to chance to take the time to catch our breath. Finally we stopped at the side of a cliff. Then we got out.

"We're gonna' have to jump. There ain't anything closer," Logan said, looking over the side of the thirty foot cliff. He looked at me. "Can you handle the fall?"

"I've jumped from higher and survived."

"None of that was real. This is."

"Do I have much of a choice?"

"Not really, no."

"Then let's jump," I said, moving closer to the edge of the cliff.

He stuck out his arm and stopped me. "I'm goin' first. I'll make sure it's deep enough for you to jump in and help you when you do."

"I know how to swim."

"Do you know how to swim with a busted foot and a bullet hole in your shoulder?"

"What are you going to do; carry me? You said we have to swim for four miles, you can't carry me that long."

"Why not?"

"Just jump in and we'll figure it out when I get in there, okay?"

He looked at me. "Be careful, baby. I'll be down there to get you when you jump. Alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He took a few steps back and then ran to the edge, diving into the water. I watched him go headfirst into the river and waited for him to come back up. After only a few seconds, I saw his head break the surface.

I didn't wait for him to say anything, I just jumped. Feet straight, back arched, trying to relax my body as much as possible to keep myself from injuring my body further.

I was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

_I feel something cold. It's freezing water._

I was sinking.

Sinking.

Sinking.

I kicked both my feet, and used my right arm to push myself up. I kicked and pushed and swam as hard as I could. I kept trying to find the surface, but I didn't know which way was up or down. I was lost and scared. Then I felt a hand on my arm, pulling me up.

"You okay?" Logan asked as I took in my first breath after surfacing. I nodded. "Can you swim?"

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, breaking from him.

I began to swim up the river with him right beside me. The wound in my shoulder was killing me, but I had to use both of my arms to swim. I just kept breathing, and moving, and tried to will away all the pain. I didn't stop or rest. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be with my family. And the faster I swam, the faster I could get there.

Every muscle hurt. My lungs burned. Every part of me felt like it was on fire. But I kept going.

I kept pushing myself.

I kept fighting.

Even though it hurt, I didn't give up.

We swam for four miles, just like the Professor had said, when we came to the embankment. Logan climbed up it first, and I was right behind him. The bank was steep and muddy from the rain, and we both kept slipping, but eventually we climbed up it.

Then it was time to run.

Together we took off through the thick woods. He led the way and I trusted that he knew where he was going. I followed behind him, not missing a step. Not even when my bare feet caught a limb or root, or when I slipped in the mud. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I had to get to the jet. That was all I was focused on.

Getting home.

Limbs smacked me. My feet tramped over rocks. The rain caught on the trees dripped down onto my bald and sensitive head and dripped into my eyes, making it hard for me to see. But I could hear Logan in front of me, and I followed the sound of his footsteps.

Then he stopped.

"What is it?" I asked, wiping the water from my eyes.

"The jet. It's this way," he said, taking off towards the left.

He could hear the jet, we were that close, and I pushed myself all the more harder to get there sooner. All I could think of was the jet. Home. My family. That's what I wanted, that's what I set my focus on, that's what I chased after.

We ran and ran until I saw a clearing in the woods. There was a large rock in the middle. That's where the jet was.

I ran harder.

I pushed everything inside of me to go faster. I climbed up the rock. Reaching and grabbing and pulling with limbs that had become numb to the pain.

The ramp was down. Logan was right in front of me. I slipped on one of the steps and he pulled me up to my feet. I was in the Blackbird.

We were alive.

We were safe.

We were exhausted.

I heard the faint mumblings of the people around me as I fell to my knees.

Then the darkness came.


	20. Finally Home

Disclaimers: I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or Fox. This one took a while to get out, I apologize. It's half past three in the morning and I have to go Christmas shopping in the morning, so wish me luck and I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

My eyes blinked at the light above me. It was dim, but still its presence seemed to give me a headache.

Everything was quiet.

Everything.

I blinked again, trying to get my eyes used to the light, but they refused.

I didn't feel much pain. Most of me felt sedated. My shoulder hurt some, but that seemed to be it. I couldn't even feel my sprained ankle. I couldn't even feel most of my left leg.

At all.

I felt a hand brush my arm.

"Don't touch me!" I said, my eyes still blinded by the light. "Don't touch me, don't touch me."

"Jayden, it's me, it's Hank. You're back at the school. You're in the infirmary. You're going to be okay," he said.

His touch felt like it was burning against my skin. I pulled my arm away from him, tucking it close to me. "Don't touch me," I repeated. "Please don't touch me. Please, just don't."

"Shh," he said. "It's okay, no one's going to hurt you. You're fine; you're back home now. We're taking care of you."

"I don't want anyway to touch me. Don't let anyone, please? Please don't Hank, please." I felt tears sliding down my cheeks.

"Shh," he cooed again. "No one will touch you. I promise. I just need you to tell me how you feel. Do you need anymore medicine for your pain?"

"No, I think I might have too much. I can't feel my foot. I try to move it and I can't. I can't feel it."

My eyes adjusted to the light and I look up through my tears as Hank. He frowned down at me, his eyes sad. "Jayden, your foot had an infection. There was a cut on the bottom of it and it had been wrapped, trapping the infection into your bloodstream."

I shook my head dully. It hurt. "No, I don't feel it. There's no pain. I don't feel it."

"That's because we had to take it, sweetheart. Otherwise it was going to travel further in your body and you could have died from it. I'm sorry."

"No, no," I said shaking my head. "I don't feel it. I _can't_ feel it. I can't feel my leg. I can't feel it! I can't feel it! I can't feel it!" I cried. "Why can't I feel it? Why?"

"Jayden, calm down; everything's going to be okay. It's going to be fine," he said, placing his hand on my right shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed. "I can't feel my leg. Don't touch me. I can't feel it. Don't touch me, don't touch me!" My sobs wracked my body until I began to feel my pain.

But not my leg.

I couldn't feel it.

I gasped for air as my breathing came in erratic bursts, caused from my sobbing. Everything seemed clouded and foggy and I was beyond all rational thought or reason. I was crying and screaming hysterically. I couldn't breath. I just lay there, gasping and crying until Hank injected something in my IV.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

"Jayden, can you hear me? Jayden?"

I opened my heavy lids to see Professor Xavier sitting beside me. "Hey Professor," I mumbled.

He smiled at me. "Hello. How do you feel?"

"Like death."

"Then fairly appropriate, I suppose."

I smiled at him weakly. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Do you remember waking up earlier?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes sir."

"And do you remember what Henry told you?"

"Yeah. He said he took my leg off."

"Partially, yes. He had to take everything below the knee cap. He's fairly confident that he got it all so that there won't be anymore surgeries for you," he said. "Is that all that you're aware of?"

"Pretty much."

"You also had surgery on your face to repair the broken bones. Your jaw was out of line and had to be reset. You had some broken ribs, which I'm afraid heal on their own with time. The gunshot wound on you shoulder is bandaged and requires time to heal as well. As for the rest of the cuts and lacerations, they're all bandaged and will be taken care of-"

"What about what they put on my forehead? They carved something, could Hank fix it?" I asked, cutting him off.

He frowned. "No, I'm afraid not. You may be able to have cosmetic surgery to have it repaired, and when you've healed, I'll pay for you to have it if you wish. Until then, there's nothing we can do about it. I'm very sorry."

"What does it say?"

He paused, debating between whether to tell me or not. "It says, Corpus vile. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes sir," I said, giving him a small nod. "It's Latin for Vile Body. It means a person only fit to be the object of experiments. It means I'm useless and worthless. I'm nothing more than an object."

"No, it doesn't mean that you are; that's only what the words mean."

"Which are _carved_ into my skin."

"Just because it say is, doesn't make it so."

"You don't know what I had to go through to get it."

"I'm well aware of what happened while you and Logan were gone."

"So you read my mind while I was asleep?" I said a little more bitterly than I wanted.

"No, Logan told us what we needed to know."

I shook my head. "He didn't tell you everything."

"No, he didn't. But he told us enough to know."

"Where is he?" I asked, changing the subject.

"He's in his room, resting."

"How long have we been here?"

"A few days."

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine. But his body just needs time to catch up. He went through quite a regenerative process and needs to take it slow for a while."

"Professor I don't…hear anything. I don't feel _or_ hear anything. Do I still have my collar on?"

"No, you don't."

"Then why is everything so quiet?"

"Jayden, I'm afraid that the impact of the collar was greater on you than on Logan. Once his was removed, he regained the use of his mutations once again."

"So it's going to take a while for my powers to come back?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. As far as we can tell, the mutant gene has been completely eradicated from your body. Meaning-"

"I'm not a mutant anymore."

"Yes, exactly." I closed my eyes and held back tears. "I'm sorry Jayden. Henry has done everything he could, but there simply was nothing he _could_ do."

I shook my head. "It's just so _quiet_."

"I know."

I looked at him. "No you don't. You don't know what it's like to suddenly be alone. To have every connection severed from your mind. Have you ever had your arm fall asleep and you know you should have feeling in it, but it's numb? And you keep shaking it to try to get it to feel again, but it won't? That's how this feels; it's like my mind's asleep, but it won't wake up. It's numb. I know I should be hearing and feeling things, and I can't."

"You should enjoy the silence."

"I can't. I thought I would. I wanted it to go away, but…I want it back. And I want to have my senses back. Everything seems so dull. I…I hate it."

"I think you may be able to blame some of the dullness on the medicine," he joked with a smile. I smiled weakly back at him. "You will get through this. And we will _all_ be here to help you. That much I can promise you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. "Now I do believe you have some visitors, if you feel up to it?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I don't care."

I rested my head back on my pillow and closed my eyes. I wanted to shut out the world around me. I was finally home, but things were not how I wanted them to be. I tried to forget it all, to pretend it wasn't real. I didn't want to deal with it.

So I didn't.

I heard a familiar voice gasp. Not a good gasp. A scared, horrified one. I opened my eyes and saw two people standing in the entrance of the infirmary.

"Mom and dad?"

"Oh Jayden," my mother said, looking at me as though I were a stranger. "What did they do to you?"

"Do I look that bad?" I asked.

"You look fine honey. You're just a little swollen. Dr. McCoy said you would be. It's fine," my father said.

But I saw the truth written plainly on both of their faces; they thought I looked like a monster.

They walked closer to me, though their steps were cautious. Like they were afraid I had a disease that they might catch. It took them time, but finally made their way over to stand beside the Professor. As if having him there between us would keep them from having to face reality: That was their daughter lying there.

My father was much braver than my mother. He smiled at me and reached out his hand to place it on mine. I pulled my hand away. His smile faded and turned into a frown. "What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I just…I don't want you to touch me. I can't…I just can't."

"Honey, your father's not going to hurt you. None of us are, isn't that right Professor Xavier? It's okay," my mother said in a condescending voice, attempting to place a hand on my injured arm that was in a sling.

"I said don't touch me!" I snapped. "I'm not brain damaged, I know who you are and I know I don't want you to touch me. I don't want _anyone_ to. Do you understand that?"

"Professor Xavier, is there any way that we could speak to our daughter privately for a moment?" my mother asked.

"Yes, I'll leave you to talk," he said, turning and rolling away from me.

"Wait," I said, sitting up in bed.

He stopped and turned back towards me. "Yes Jayden?" I looked at him for a moment, trying to project my thoughts into his mind. Finally he smiled weakly and nodded his head. "I'll go get him for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome."

My parents were silent as they waited for Xavier to leave. Then my mother spoke. "I understand that you're pretty upset right now, but you have to understand that your father and I are just here to help you."

"And you have to understand that I don't want people touching me right now. It's nothing personal. It has nothing to do with either of you. It has to do with me. I would even let Hank touch me."

"Dr. McCoy?"

"Yeah."

"He's a mutant."

I looked over at her. "Yeah, so?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why does it matter? He's one of the best doctors in the worlds. He's one of the smartest people I've ever met. He's funny, he's sweet, he's a fantastic cook and a great dancer. He knows how to speak more then ten different languages. He's addicted to Twinkies. He's one of my best friends. If I was going to tell you something about him, that wouldn't be the first thing I thought of. Why does it matter?"

"Because he's a _mutant_.

I looked her straight in the eye. "So am I. _Why_ does it matter?"

"What? Why did you never tell us?" my father asked.

"Because I know how you feel about us. You hate us."

"Why would you think that? We've never told you that. We don't hate mutants," he said.

"You killed your own son because he was one."

"How…how did you know about Cameron?" my mother stammered.

"Because I saw him. That's my mutation; I see things. I have visions. You told everyone that he was stillborn but he wasn't. He was born with green skin and scales and red eyes. He was a mutant and you killed him because of it."

"You don't understand, it's complicated," my mother said.

"Really? Is it? Because it seems pretty uncomplicated to me. Why would you kill your own son if you didn't hate him? If you didn't hate mutants?"

"When you love someone, you'll do anything to keep them from hurting-"

"So you _killed_ him to keep him from hurting?"

"I didn't _hate_ my son, I _loved_ him!" she announced loudly. "I still do. But I was scared."

"Of what? Him? Not all mutants are violent, you know. We don't all go off on killing rampages. Some of us are just normal people."

"I wasn't scared of him; I was scared of other people. I was scared that he would get hurt, that other people would hate him because of how he looked. I didn't want him to have to suffer, so we let him go to sleep and just didn't let him wake up. You have no idea how much it killed me to do it-"

"You? It killed you?"

"You don't know how it was to take something that was my own flesh and blood, my baby, and…do that to him. But I would rather be full of guilt and never have to worry about him suffering, then to constantly be full of fear that someone might hurt my baby just because he looked different. You may not understand that, but when you become a mother, you will."

"I look bad don't I? I'm different, I'm scary. Are you going to put me out of my misery?"

"No."

"Why? You're disgusted when you look at me; I see it in your eyes. It's not just the swelling. I'm going to suffer, why don't you just go ahead and kill me, too?"

"Stop talking like that. You're upset, and we understand that you've been through a very hard time and you need rest. You're working yourself up over nothing," my father said. "There's nothing wrong with you, you're going to be fine. No one's disgusted by you, we're just worried."

"If I'm fine, then why are you worried? What's to worry about?"

"We just want you to be okay. We want to make sure that you heal well. You've been through a really hard ordeal; we want to make sure that you can get through this."

"I've gotten through the worst of it; I think I'll be okay now."

She nodded, obviously differing but refusing to argue with me. "Is there anything you need or that you want us to get for you?"

I shook my head slightly. "No," I said. "But thank you."

I heard the door slide open and looked over at it. I smiled at Logan as he walked in. He smiled back at me. "Hey darlin'," he said. "How you feelin'?"

"Probably better than I look, I'm sure."

"Well you couldn't be worse," he joked, giving me a wink.

I laughed. "You're a jerk, you know that? Because I remember seeing you when you looked near death. You didn't look that pretty yourself a few days ago."

His smile faded as he walked closer to me, ignoring my parents. He stopped right at my side, staring down at me. "You saved our hides, kid. If it hadn't been for you, we both would've died. You did what you had to do and you got us outta' there."

"I just did what you told me."

"What was that?"

"Get back up," I said. "Get back up and fight. It wasn't my time to die yet, and I wasn't going to go without you."

He shook his head. "You did more than that, you didn't just get back up, you never let 'em get you down."

"That's what they want, that's how they win. Right?"

He nodded. "Yeah." I stared up at him and I felt tears well up in my eyes. "It's okay," he said sitting down beside me. "Come here."

I fell into his arms and then I fell apart. Everything that I had been trying to hold back finally came out. I grabbed a fist full of his shirt with my uninjured hand as I buried my face into his shoulder and sobbed. He cradled the back of my head with his hand and kissed the top of it.

"Let it out, baby. It's okay, just let it all out."

"Why did they do that? Why are people so sick? Why?"

"I don't know baby. I don't know."

"How could they do that to someone? How could they do that to _me_? Why do people do that? How can they be so mean?" I sobbed.

I had finally allowed myself to feel the pain that I had been suppressing. Not the physical pain, but the mental, the emotional. Everything I had pushed to the back of my head and decided to deal with later, I was finally dealing with it. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. I sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him like the scared child that I was, and I felt it all.

Being at home gave me the permission to feel what I had been delaying. And Logan's touch gave me the courage to deal with it. Everyone else's touch burned. It hurt. But Logan's touch was different. Very different. His touch radiated protection. His kiss symbolized acceptance. Holding me was more than just a small gesture saying that he loved me. It was his silent way of promising that he would always take care of me. That we knew who we were and nothing could change that. That no matter what happened to me, he would always be there, ready for me to fall into his arms whenever I needed them.

I never wanted him to let go.

"They tried to take you away from me. I need you and they wanted to take you away. They can't take you away, I need you, I need you."

"Shh," he whispered, his voice broken. "No one's takin' me away from you darlin', I'm staying right here. I'm stayin' with you, okay?"

I pulled away and looked into his eyes. They were red and teary. "Don't cry. If you start crying, I won't stop. Then I'll have to tell all the kids I made the Wolverine cry."

He shook his head. "I don't care what you tell 'em. Someone was hurtin' you and I didn't do anything about it."

"You couldn't do anything, there was nothing _to_ do. It wasn't _your_ fault. None of it was."

I watched him close his eyes as he tried to fight back tears. He ground his jaw together and shook his head. I reached up my hand and placed it on his cheek. He held it there with one of his own and kissed the inside of my wrist. "I killed 'em and I lied to you about it, 'cause I thought you'd be disappointed with me."

"It wouldn't have matter if you had told me the truth or not, Logan. Those people…they weren't right. There was something wrong with them; you had no idea that they would do something like this." A tear ran down my cheek. "I'm the one that should have known. I was _so_ stupid."

He opened his eyes, letting tears escape. He shook his head. "This was _not_ your fault. You did nothing wrong. You're not stupid, do you hear me? You did _nothing_ to deserve this. _Nothing_." He shook his head. "It should've been me, not you. I was the one that killed 'em, it should've been me."

"And what would I have done without you? How could I _survive_ without you? I need you, how could I live if they had taken you away from me."

He pulled me back to him, holding me tight. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

"Don't apologize, it wasn't your fault.

I felt his place a kiss on my neck, the side of my head and on top of it. "I let 'em hurt my baby."

"You didn't _let_ them. There was nothing you could do," I said, feeling sick from crying. "Logan, do you remember what you promised me while we were there?"

He pulled away and stared at me for a moment. "That I would get you outta' there?"

I shook my head. "No," I said sniffling. "That you would get me a pizza once we did."

His body visibly relaxed and he gave me the faintest hit of a smile. "Yeah, I remember that. And I'll get you whatever you want. Just gotta' let Hank okay it," he said. "Alright?"

"Yeah." I nodded. I looked down at the spot where my left foot should have been. "He took my leg," I said dully.

"Yeah, I know."

"That means I can't run anymore. I can't train. I can't dance." I let out a sigh. "It's going to take me forever to even learn how to walk again."

"You know _how_ to walk, you just gotta' get used to doin' it differently." He gently wiped the tears from my face. I was done crying. For then anyway. "And I'm gonna' help you, all right? I'll do whatever I can and whatever you want me to."

"Mr. Logan, although we appreciate your willingness to help, my husband and I are going to be taking our daughter home as soon as we can. We'll be getting _professional _help and taking care of her on our own. There will be no need for you, I'm afraid," my mother said.

"I'm not going back to California. _This_ is my home, I'm staying _here_."

"Why? You can't go to college, you can't 'help' teach. You're going to need physical therapy, doctors on call, a _psychiatrist_. You need professionals taking care of you. You need to be with your family, not a bunch of strangers."

"The people here _are_ my family. I'm not _leaving_ them.

"You don't have a _choice_," my mother said. "When we were here last time, we didn't push for you to come back home. We should have. We let you stay here and look what happened. Look at yourself! Someone took you and raped you. They _beat_ you beyond recognition; you don't even look like yourself. You don't _look_ like my daughter."

"It's 'cause she's _not_!" Logan snapped, standing up and facing them. "You ain't takin' her no where. She's stayin' here with me 'cause she ain't _your_ daughter, she's _mine_."

"Yes, Jayden told us that you were her father. She explained to us that you were why she was staying here. She also told us that you were going to look after her. But you didn't. You let this happen to _my_ daughter. She's mine because while you were off doing who knows what, _we_ were raising her. _We_ were taking care of her. So if we want to take her home, we can."

"You ain't goin' anywhere with her."

"Who do you think you are to stop us?"

He stood right in front of her, his stare intimidating as he glared down at her. "I'm her father, and you ain't takin' her anywhere."

"I'm staying here with him," I said.

She looked over at me. "Jayden this conversation doesn't concern you, so mind your manners and don't interrupt people who are trying to talk."

"What do you mean this conversation doesn't concern her? It's _about_ her. And if she wants to interrupt people who are talkin', she can, especially when it's about _her_."

"Jayden, why do you want to stay here with him? He's a complete Neanderthal. He has no manners, no apparent concept of authority; he can't even take care of you. Why would you want to stay here with him?"

"Because I love him," I said. "That's what all of this is about."

"What all _what_ is about?"

"I went through all of this so he wouldn't have to. It wasn't his fault, I did this for him. I chose to take his place," I said. I stared at her and shook my head. "But if it had been you, I probably would've given in. Because being with you makes me weak. I didn't do this for you; I did it for him."

My father took my mother by her shoulder and turned her away from Logan and me both. "Sweetheart, your mother and I are going to go back to our hotel and let you rest. I know you're stressed out and in a lot of pain, so we're going to try and let you get used to being here some and we'll come back when you're ready for us to. I know you've been through a _very_ traumatic experience and you're on a lot of medication and you're probably saying a lot of things you don't mean. Just try to take some time to calm down and relax. Okay, honey?"

"My pain medication has nothing to do with what I'm saying. It has to do with how both of you are looking at me. You're disgusted. You look at me and you see a monster. A stranger that's disfigured. You don't look at me and see your daughter anymore, because you don't know who I am, you just know the person I've always pretended to be. I'm not _her_, though. And without her, you just see a shell. But now I don't even look right anymore and you're all about appearances. Logan looks at me differently. He _sees_ someone different. He sees _me_. He always has."

"We want to _help_ you," she said.

"How? By taking me away from my family?"

"_We_ are your family, not them. I don't know what he's been doing for the past nineteen years, but we've spent the last fifteen_ raising_ you."

"Raising me to what? Be some clone of _you_? You've never let me be or do what I wanted. You want me to get help, but for what? I don't _need_ to see a psychiatrist. I know what those people did to me and I know that I didn't deserve it. I didn't ask for it. I did nothing wrong. It was their fault, not mine. I don't need you or some doctor who wasn't even there trying to tell me how to get over it and 'heal'. I don't need people telling me how I should feel about it when they weren't there," I said. "And as for what Logan's been doing the past nineteen years, he's spent it trying to figure out who he is. I told you that the last time you were here and I told you who he was. He spent that time _hoping_ that I was being taken care of and happy. And when he found out that I wasn't, he came back for me. You have _no_ idea what I went through this past week. But he was there. I would rather have one of my legs chopped off then to have someone take him away from me. If you want to help me, then don't be condescending. Don't treat me like I'm stupid. And don't try to take me away from here."

"Shh," my father said. "Calm down, Jayden. We're going to go now. We'll be back later and we'll talk and make plans then. Right now you just need to get some rest. We'll see you later, honey. We love you. Bye."

I watched them leave and let out a sigh. Logan turned to me. "You already told 'em who I was?"

I nodded my head lightly, careful not to move it too hard or too fast for fear it would cause more pain. "Yeah," I said. "When they came up, they were going to make me leave and I…I couldn't be without you, so I told them that I was staying here with you. My father."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I said something without makin' sure that they knew already. I just lost my temper."

"I don't care what you tell them. I have more to worry about than that." I looked up at him. "I'm home. Now what am I supposed to do? I thought I could just come back and everything would be okay. It would go back to how it was. But…it's _not _okay. It's _not_ going to go back to how it was. Everything's changed. _I've_ changed. And I don't know what to do." My throat tightened as tears slid down my cheeks. "I'm scared Logan. I don't know what to do. My leg's gone, I'm not going to be able to walk, I'm not a mutant anymore, but I'm not just a human and I'm scared. I killed people, Logan. I _killed_ people. I know that they deserved it, and that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is that I enjoyed it. I _enjoyed_ killing those men. Beating them and cutting them apart. Ten men. _Ten_. How am I supposed to justify what I did to them?"

"By what they did to you."

"But they were justifying what they did to me by what you had done to their brothers. How am I supposed to sleep knowing what I'm capable of? Knowing that I can just kill people and enjoy it?"

He sat back down on the bed beside me. He placed his hand on my cheek. "They hurt you and you killed 'em. That's it. There was nothing else to it. It was self defense."

"Self defense is stopping someone from hurting or attacking you. Not cutting them up into pieces and making them watch while you do it. It's not doing everything you can to make them suffer. It's not making them beg for life until the point you've cut them apart so much, they beg for you to kill them. It's not enjoying slitting someone's throat just to watch them bleed, even after you've killed them. It's not enjoying the feeling of hitting someone so hard that they die, or liking the feeling of cutting into someone's flesh. That's not what self defense is, but that's what _I_ did. How am I supposed to live knowing I did all that and that I would do it again? How?"

"You don't think about it. You think of something else and know that you had a _reason_ for enjoyin' it."

"There's no reason for enjoying to killing someone."

"When they did what they did to you there is," he said. "Everything on you is gonna' heal. Hank's gonna' patch you up, you're gonna' learn how to walk again, your hair's gonna' grow back, and you're gonna' look just as beautiful as you always have. But they took something that I can't get back for you. I watched 'em beat you on the outside, and that's gonna' heal. But they killed you on the inside." He shook his head. "You can't let 'em do that. You can't let 'em inside your head. They're dead, but if you let 'em take you with 'em, then they win. You didn't do anything wrong, _nothing_. Do you know how proud I was of you? How proud I still am? You did _everything_ I taught you to do, you took every chance you had and there ain't no reason you should be scared. Of anything."

I fell back into his arms, burying my face into his shoulder once again. "I don't know what to do. I _am_ scared. I don't know where I belong anymore."

I felt his mouth over my ear. His hot breath caused cold chills to run through my body. But I didn't move. "You belong here," he whispered. "Here at the school. Here with your family. Here with _me_. I love you darlin', and no matter what happens, you're always gonna' belong right here. Right in my arms. Don't be scared, 'cause I'm always gonna' take care of you. Always. I promise."

"I love you Logan."

"I love you too, baby."


	21. Painfully Numb

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or Fox, but I did get some of my Christmas shopping done today, which is really nice. I hope ya'll enjoy the next chapter.

Sidenote: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far, I really appreciate it, but also thank you to those who've taken the extra time to send me a PM. I love to open my inbox and see notes people have left for me. I got one today that touched me beyond words and I can't imagine that anything I've written could ever possibly helped or encouraged someone, but to read that it has beyond made my day. Thank ya'll so much for your support. I can't tell you how much I genuinely appreciate all of the feedback. Thank you.

* * *

My first day awake was nothing I had dreamed it to be. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting, but I didn't think lying in a hospital bed in the infirmary was what I really had in mine. The second day wasn't much better.

"Hello Jayden. How do you feel today?" Hank asked as he walked into my room first thing the next morning. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand, a box of Twinkies in the other, and a newspaper tucked under one of his arms.

"Not as bad as I did before," I said. "You?"

He smiled at me before setting down the items he was holding. "I can't complain," he said sitting down on a stool and rolling over to me. "Has he been asleep for long?" he asked, indicating to Logan who was in a chair by my bed, slumped over and asleep.

"Maybe an hour or two, I guess. I kept waking up, so he just didn't sleep either."

"Shall we let him sleep or wake him and send him to his room?"

"I ain't goin' anywhere, so just get on with what you're doin' here," Logan mumbled, his eyes still closed.

I looked over at him and smiled. "Perhaps we should let him sleep," I said. "He's not doing much harm." He opened his eyes just enough to give me a wink. Then he flashed me one of his trademark smirks and repositioned himself in his makeshift bed and closed his eyes again. "So what do you need, Hank?"

The smile fell from his face as he went into doctor mode. I felt the air around me still at his seriousness. Even Logan felt it. He sat up, suddenly awake. "I'm afraid that Charles didn't tell you everything yesterday when he was informing you of all the surgeries I performed on you. He left two out."

"Which were what?" I asked as I sat up, feeling pain run through my body. I ignored it.

He took the glasses from the bridge of his nose and placed them gently in the pocket of his lab coat. "The damage that you endured was quite great. I don't expect you or Logan to go into detail about what happened while you were gone, I have all the facts that I need."

"What's the point, Hank?" I asked.

He let out a heavy sigh. "As I said; the damage that you suffered was tremendous. So much so that I had to remove your uterus. The scar tissue was far too much to consider it ever being repaired and I was afraid that if one day you were to ever become pregnant, you would have a great deal of complications for the baby. Of course with that, I also had to tie your ovarian tubes. I don't know if it slipped his mind or if he just didn't have the heart to tell you after how you reacted to discovering we had amputated your leg, but those were the only two surgeries he didn't mention." He looked at me for a minute as I didn't say anything. I just stared down at the tile flooring. "Do you understand what that means, Jayden?"

"Yeah." I looked up at him. "It means I can't have kids," I said simply.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

I shrugged with my good shoulder. "I never really wanted kids, anyway. They're too much of a hassle." I looked over at Logan. "Sorry furry-face; it looks like you won't get to be a grandpa."

"It's not to say you can't still be a mother. You could always adopt. You know how important that is. You just can't have children of your own. There's a lot of woman that can't."

I nodded. "I know. It's just…even though I never _wanted_ kids, I always had the option to change my mind. But now I can't. It'll just take some time to get used to, that's all."

"I am truly sorry, Jayden. I did everything I could."

"I know Hank," I said. He reached out to touch my hand and I pulled it from his reach. "Sorry, I…I'm trying, but I just can't do that right now. I'm really sorry."

He gave me a short, small smile. "Don't worry about it. It's perfectly natural to not desire touch after a traumatic experience, like the one you went through. Take your time to work it out how you need. We'll be here to help you when you need us."

I gave him a weak smile and nodded. "I know, thank you."

"You will get through this; you're a very strong person."

"Yeah, just not strong enough to fight off an infection in my foot," I said bitterly.

He leaned forward in his chair, closer to me. "Are you aware of the strength it took for you to swim four miles and run two and a half in order to get to the jet, not to mention what you did before then in order to escape? You had a sprained ankle and a leg with an infection. You had broken bones, cuts, and bruises as well as a gun shot wound in your shoulder. You hadn't eaten in four days and you were dehydrated. And you were nearly hypothermic from swimming the cold water of the river. Your body, physically, should not have allowed you to have done everything that you did. You were strong enough to make it through that, you can get through this."

"I wasn't _that_ bad. I had both my feet, and I could use both of my arms. Yeah, they may have hurt, but they were there, I could use them. The water was cold, but I was so numb I stopped feeling it after a while. I was tired but I had a lot of adrenaline pumping, so I didn't really feel it."

"You weren't just tired; you were exhausted. Your body was _exhausted_, Jayden. You collapsed as soon as you got into the jet. It takes more than adrenaline to get you through all of that when your body is at its end. That takes strength and will power."

"I was hungry; I missed your food. You know I'd do anything for a plate of pancakes, this just proves it."

He smiled at me. "Is that a hint?"

"A small one, yeah. Did it work?"

"Yes, I believe so. As soon as I'm done checking everything, I'll make some for you. But first I need to change your bandages."

"Uh," Logan said from his seat, sitting up straighter.

"Yes Logan?" Hank said.

"Just thinkin' here, but if she doesn't want you touchin' her, how are you gonna' change her bandages?"

Hank looked at me for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I don't know," he said. "Is there no way you can grit your teeth just long enough for me to do it?"

I looked over at Logan. He nodded at me. "I'll do it," he said.

"How?" Hank asked.

"Same way you do it," he deadpanned.

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. "No, I mean how are you going to change her bandages? She won't allow _anyone_ to touch her."

I looked down, pretending to pick lint from the sling my injured arm rested in. "Actually…I don't…I don't mind Logan touching me," I said quietly. "I'm sorry Hank."

"Why are you sorry?" he asked.

"Because I don't want you to take it personally. I don't mean for it to be like this. I can't help it."

He gave me a kind smile. "I don't take it personally and I know you can't help it. As I said; you will get over it. You just need time," he said. "However, your bandages are in some…"

"Revealing places?"

"Yes, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, well, he's seen it all, there's no use in being shy now," I said dull and bitterly.

"I can have Rogue come in, if you would like?"

"Yes, let's have the whole school come in and watch while the freak gets naked," I bit out.

"That's not how I mean it, I'm sorry. I just thought you might feel more comfortable with a woman and she wouldn't _technically_ be touching you," Hank said.

I shook my head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just a little…edgy. I don't mean anything by it, I just-"

He held up his hand. "There's no need for you to apologize, I understand completely. If you feel more comfortable with Logan, that's fine. It's your decision."

"I just don't want anyone else to touch me."

"Whatever makes _you_ comfortable. Okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"I'll get the supplies and show you what to do, Logan," Hank said standing. "Follow me."

I lay back and closed my eyes. I tried to convince myself that I wasn't as vulnerable as I felt. I tried to pretend that I had some control over what was happening and that I just chose for it to be the way that it was. But honestly, that was one situation I didn't want to be in. I would rather have been anywhere but there. I _tried_ to convince myself I wasn't vulnerable, but I was. I felt embarrassed, and stupid, and completely naked. In more ways than one. And I hated it.

"You're all done," Hank said after what felt like forever. "I'll go get to work on your breakfast."

I opened my eyes and sat back up. "Well that was fun," I said dry and sarcastically.

"Hank didn't look and I was concentratin' on what I was doin', so don't worry about it," Logan said, sitting down in the chair beside my bed once again.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"I know you don't want this-"

"Do you? Because I don't know that anyone understands how I feel."

"I don't _understand_ how you feel, and I'm not pretendin' that I do. All I'm sayin' is I _know_ you don't want to do this. But it's gotta' be done. If you wanna' get better, this is a part of it."

I sat back against the headboard of my hospital bed. "Maybe I don't want to get better."

He ran his hand over his mouth before leaning closer to me. "What do you mean, maybe you don't want to get better?"

"Maybe I don't want to."

"What're your other options? Layin' there and dyin'?" I didn't say anything. He nodded his head and let out an angry breath. "So that's it, you just wanna' die? After makin' it through all that freakin' crap, you just wanna' die?"

"Why did I make it out of there? Why? Why did I make it out just so I could lay here and be degraded by having someone else take care of me?"

"'Cause you're gonna' heal. You're not gonna' be in the infirmary forever. You're gonna' get out and everything's gonna' be fine."

"Well, it's not like I'm going to be able to _walk_ out of here when I do get out," I said bitterly.

"Is that what this is about? That you got us both outta' there alive but you had to give up a leg? You're _alive_. That's all that matters."

"No, it's _not_ all that matters. They had to take my freakin' _leg_!" I yelled. "You don't get that because you don't know what it's like. Look at you, you're fine, you don't have a scratch on you. I can't walk, I can't have kids, I'm not a _mutant_. They took everything away from me. _Everything_. And you don't get that. I couldn't even _feed_ myself yesterday. You and Hank had to _help_ me. Look at me Logan. _Look_ at me! I caught my reflection in my spoon yesterday and I scared _myself_. You can say whatever you want about being swollen from everything that happened, surgeries, or whatever other crap you want to feed me, but I'm not going to buy it. Yeah, things may get better, but they're not going to be fine. _I'm_ not going to be fine."

"What do you want me to do about it? _Tell_ me what you want me to do, 'cause I'm sittin' here waiting on you. I'll do whatever you want just _tell me_." His voice was loud with anger, but his eyes were helpless. He was as scared as I was.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice shaking, betraying me as I fought to keep back tears. "I don't know. I just want everything to go back to how it was. I want _my_ life back. I'm this person I don't like or recognize."

"Only 'cause you're lettin' yourself. You can't let them control you, they're dead, you're not."

"Why though? _Why_ am I not dead?"

"'Cause it wasn't your time to die. Not then and not now. But you're lettin' 'em take over you."

"You don't know what it's like to have someone just _use_ you, though. To have them act like you don't have any thoughts or feelings, you're just a thing for them to play with. You don't know what it's like to have people screw with your body and mind."

He stared me right in the eye. "Yeah I do," he said. "Where do you think I got all the metal on my bones? How do you think I lost all my memories and why I'm still fightin' to remember everything? Someone cut me open and took my life. They took everything from me-"

"And you tracked down all the people you could find that did it to you and you killed them."

"And so did you," he said, his voice still angry. "I ain't sayin' you shouldn't be pissed 'caused you should be. And I ain't gonna' pretend to know exactly what you're goin' through, 'cause I don't. All I know is that I've had someone make me feel the same way you feel and I got through it."

"How many times did you try killing yourself after that, though? How many times did you feel so helpless and lost and completely used that you tried to commit suicide, just to have it fail? How many times did you feel spent and worthless? How many times? How many years? How long, Logan? How long did it take you to get over it?"

"Until I met Marie," he said quietly.

I nodded my head. "So you felt like that for fifteen years, that you can remember anyway. You could have felt like that before. But definitely fifteen years."

"You're not me," he said, looking me in the eye once again.

"No I'm not you," I said. "I'm your _daughter_. And I'm scared, and confused, and I don't know what to do. I've lost everything. _Everything_."

He leaned in closer to me and took my hand. He held it tight. "You ain't lost me, darlin'. I'm still here. I felt like that for fifteen years 'cause I didn't have anyone. You got me. And I ain't goin' anywhere." I took a few breaths, trying to calm my shaking. "And you got Hank and Chuck, and as much as I hate it, you got Summers too."

I was quiet for a while, trying to calm down and stop shaking. "My parents aren't coming back, are they?" I finally asked, breaking our long silence.

"I don't know."

"I do. They're not coming back. They're scared of me, of what I look like, what I did, who I am." I let out a bitter laugh. "I always thought that they would hate me because I was a mutant, but they didn't. They didn't mind that. They hate me because I'm…"

"Not who they thought you were?"

I shrugged. "Look, it doesn't matter what your parents think, all right? It doesn't matter."

"I thought it didn't, I didn't want it to, but it does. They're my _parents_; they're always supposed to love me, no matter what."

He ran his hand across his mouth again. "I don't know what to tell you, kid. I can't answer for them. Just me. And all I can say is I ain't gonna' stop lovin' you no matter what happens. Do you hear me?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good."

I slipped my hand from his and tried to pull the blanket closer to me. My hospital gown gave me little coverage, meaning little warmth. I had cold chills running across my body. Logan stood and helped to pull and tuck the blankets around me. "Thank you," I said quietly as he sat back down. I looked over at him. "How bad does my leg look?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You haven't looked at it yet?"

I shook my head. "No."

He sat back in his seat and let out a sigh. "It ain't too bad."

"Define 'too bad'."

He gave me a small smile. "It'll be better soon and you can get a fake one, a prosthetic, and you'll be good as new."

"Yeah, good as new," I said lamely.

Logan didn't have time to respond as Hank come walking into the room carrying a tray. "Hungry?" he asked.

I smiled at him. "Yeah, I'm starving," I said. He set the tray on my lap and reached for the fork, attempting to help me. I put up my hand to stop him. "I think I can do it. My right arm's a little banged up, but it's not too bad."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to tire yourself. I'm sure Logan could assist you, if you would prefer him to do so?"

I shook my head slightly. "No, I think I can handle it. If I don't start doing things on my own, I'm afraid I'll depend on other people to do them for me later. I'm sure I can manage a stack of pancakes."

He gave me a smile and a small nod. He walked around the bed to the other side and sat down on the same stool he had been sitting on before. I slowly cut the top couple of pancakes and ate them cautiously, careful not to drop or spill anything. My arm muscles were sore and the fork felt heavy in my hand, but I refused to allow either one of them to help me.

"Hank," I started timidly as I was midway through my breakfast.

He lowered the newspaper he had been reading and looked at me. "Yes?"

"Do you know if my parents have called or not?"

"Not so far today, no, I don't believe that have." Logan looked at me and I wanted to know what he was thinking. I missed being able to feel him, being able to hear his thoughts and know what he felt. I looked at him and tried to feel it, but I couldn't.

I missed having him in my head.

"I'm sure they'll call later. Right now they're just letting you rest," Hank said. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"I won't," I said letting out a sigh. I played with the rest of the food on my plate before pushing it away from me. "I'm done."

Logan quirked an eyebrow at my plate. "You sure? You didn't eat a lot."

"I'm not as hungry as I thought I was."

His eyebrow rose higher. "I thought you were starvin'?"

I looked over at him and cocked my head to the side. "I was, now I'm full. Why does it matter?"

"'Cause you barely ate anything yesterday either."

"I'd been on a feeding tube, I wasn't hungry. I don't understand why you're so concerned over a half eaten plate of pancakes?"

"I just don't want you-"

"To starve myself? I'm not going to."

"Well it's not like you've never done it before."

"I've never _starved_ myself, what are you talking about?" I asked.

"I'm talkin' about your stupid diet you've been on for the past six months where you barely eat and when you do, it's a piece of lettuce or some crap."

"I don't starve myself; I just control what I eat. It's called being healthy. And obviously I eat, or otherwise I couldn't work out, I would-" I stopped and looked away, shaking my head.

"What?" Logan asked.

I looked back up at him with heavy tears falling from my eyes. "I can't train anymore; I can't be part of the team."

He moved from his chair and sat on the bed beside me, moving the tray out of the way. He pulled me close to him. "Shh," he said, cradling my head. "It's okay."

"No it's not. I wanted to be part of the team. I was working so hard."

"I know," he said and kissed the side of my temple.

I pulled away from him. "No you don't. You didn't want me to be part of it in the first place. You don't know what it meant to me. I wanted it so badly; it's what I was working towards. And now…now it's all pointless."

"It's not _pointless_," he said as he wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"Yes it is. I can't do anything now. I did all of that work for nothing."

"No you didn't."

"Then what did I do it for?"

"To get us outta' that place. If you hadn't known what you were doin', then we would both still be there and about dead, if we hadn't died already," he said. "So none of it was pointless. Okay?"

But nothing he said could stop me from crying. And I cried until I felt sick.

"I need to throw up," I said.

Hank stood and quickly found a wastebasket and handed it to me as soon as I began vomiting. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked safely from five feet away. I shook my head, tears still running down my hot cheeks as I kept my head bowed over the wastebasket. "Are you sure you don't want a wet towel or something?"

"No, I'm freezing; I don't want anything wet on me."

"Perhaps you should lay back and try to rest some. I think you got yourself worked up too soon," he said, taking the basket from me and moving the tray from my bed.

I lay back down and tried to get comfortable, but I wasn't used to sleeping on my back. I usually slept on my side or stomach, but I had too many wires connected to me to turn over. My body was so tired, my head was pounding, and everything hurt. I was sick to my stomach, I felt like I was freezing, but my whole body was sweating and it shook violently.

"Hey Hank, she's shakin' pretty bad," Logan called.

"Grab another blanket and wrap her up in it," he called back.

"But she's sweatin' too."

"If she's cold, then it'll be fine."

Logan stood and walked over to a long glass cabinet where he pulled out two blankets before walking back to me. He wrapped one around me and looked down into my eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, drying the tears left on my face. I shook my head. "What's wrong?"

"Everything."

He bent down and kissed me on top of my head. "Why don't you just get some rest all right? You need it. I'll be right here with you."

"You barely slept at all last night, you need to sleep too."

"Yeah, I will once you're asleep."

I shook my head again slightly. "You can't sleep in that chair."

He cocked his eyebrow at me. "I'm not leavin' you."

"You don't rest in the chair very well," I mumbled.

He eyed my bed for a moment. "Can you move over some?"

"Why?"

"'Cause if you can't, I'll help you."

"No, why do I need to move?"

"'Cause I'm gonna' lay down with you. That way we can both sleep and I can stay here with you."

I sat up and tried to move myself. I felt the stump of my leg move against the sheets, and it felt odd and uncomfortable. I was on Morphine, but it wasn't enough to numb everything. But I tried not to think about it because there was nothing I could do.

Not right then.

Logan lay down beside me and did his best to comfort me. It helped some, but nothing was going to make it the same. Nothing could stop my fear. Nothing could stop my pain. Nothing could stop my hate.

I grasped Logan's hand tight with mine and closed my eyes, attempting to go back to sleep.

"I love you," I whispered.

I felt his hot mouth kiss the side of my sensitive head. "Right back at'cha, kid," he whispered in my ear.

Logan could make how I felt better, but he couldn't take it all away.

No one could.

* * *

"Does that hurt?" Hank asked as Logan helped me out of bed.

"A little," I said through gritted teeth.

"More or less than yesterday?"

"A little less, but not much," I said holding onto Logan with my good arm and hopping on my right foot to try to find my balance.

We had been home for nearly two weeks and it was time for my daily walk around the room. Hank said it was important for me to get up and walk to keep fluid from flooding my lungs. Most amputees were supposed to start walking within their first few days after surgery. But I was a little different. Eight of my twenty-four ribs were broken, two were cracked and three were bruised. This made for a difficult time of moving when I wasn't being pumped with Morphine. I was also having some major pain from my pre-mature hysterectomy. I had a lot of headaches, which bothered my vision; from the surgery Hank had preformed in order to remove bone fragments from my broken eye socket. He also had to fix my sunken cheek bone and repaired my cracked nose. The swelling had gone down almost completely and there was only fading bruises left on my face. The words that had been carved into my skin had healed over, but it was still evident. I didn't look like a monster anymore, but I certainly didn't look like myself. I wondered if that was because of how I had changed on outside, or how I changed on the _inside_. I wasn't me. I was someone else. And I was having to adapt to _all_ the changes.

I swore loudly and bit into Logan's shoulder as I moved across the room. He had accidentally hit my side, causing a wave of pain to run through my body. "Sorry darlin'," he apologized.

I let go of his shoulder and let out a deep breath. "No, it's fine, you didn't mean to," I said, watching the bite mark I had just made heal.

I was jealous.

I should have been able to use crutches to get around _without_ him helping me, but I couldn't use them because of my arm. It was still in a sling from where I had been shot in the shoulder. Hank told me it was the best gunshot wound he had every seen; straight and clean. It hadn't hit any bones or major muscles. But it was still going to take awhile for it to heal so that I could use it. Until then, Logan was my crutch.

"Why is my left side the only thing that's damaged?" I asked as we reached the end of my room. I hopped until we turned back around and began walking towards Hank. "I mean, I know they were messed up, but seriously dude, why were they anti-left?"

"What do you mean why were they anti-left? So are you," Logan said. "At least when you're drivin'."

"I am not. I just wanted to know why I should make a left when you can make three rights?"

He shook his head. "'Cause it's faster."

"Faster doesn't always mean better."

"It doesn't?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Okay, so when you're healing, faster would be nice."

"What about when you're hungry?"

"It would be _nicer_, but fast food isn't better. Just quicker and more convenient."

"Once more and back," Hank said when we reached him. We turned around and began back down the length of the room.

"So you're sayin' that if you were starvin' you would rather wait on food?"

"No, if I'm starving, then the alterative, which is eating, would be better. So _any_ food I get would be the better option."

"And if you're starvin', you want fast food. Right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes Logan, if I'm starving I would concede my position on 'faster isn't always better' long enough to order and eat a Big Mac. I'd probably die of a heart attack from clogged arteries a few days later, of course."

"But at least you'd be full."

I smiled at him. "You have a twisted sense of optimism, you know that?"

"If that's the only thing about me that's twisted, I'd be lucky." I laughed.

"I have a question," I said as we reached Hank back on the other side of the room once again. He looked at me and nodded, indicating for me to ask it. "What do I do about shoes?" Logan shook his head. "What? I'm serious. I mean, do I still have to pay full price for a pair of shoes if I'm only going to wear one?"

"I'm not sure," Hank said, furrowing his brow.

Logan just kept shaking his head. "What?"

"First of all, why do you need anymore shoes than you've already got? And second of all, when you get your prosthetic in, you can put a shoe on it."

"Okay, I'm a girl; we _like_ shoes. We like shoes, and makeup, and clothes, and looking _nice_. There's nothing wrong with that. And what if I didn't have enough money to get a fake leg? Would I _still_ have to buy both shoes?"

"I suppose you could always find someone with the same size foot as you that's had their right foot amputated. Then you could split the cost of a pair of shoes," Hank said with a small smile.

I smiled back at him. "Do they have support groups for that kind of thing?" I joked.

"I'll get Charles to check," he said, giving me a wink. "You can rest now. I'm going to go get your lunch."

Logan helped me to my bed. I sat down and used my right arm to push myself back. Then I swung my legs up onto it and moved until my back was flush with the hospital bed. It was moved into an upright position for day so that I could sit up. Logan sat down in the chair that had been his bed for over a week and stared at me. I looked over at him.

"Is there any particular reason why you're staring at me?" I asked with a bit of a smile.

He shook his head. "No."

"Alright, just checking." He kept staring though. "Okay, seriously dude, you're starting to freak me out a little bit, why are you staring? What's wrong?"

"You need to talk to someone."

"What do you mean? I am talking to someone; I'm talking to you."

He shook his head. "You need to talk to a doctor, someone who can help you."

"Help me with what?"

"With what happened while we were gone. You ain't talked to Hank or Chuck about it since we've been back and I think you need to. If you don't wanna' talk to them, then I'm sure they can get someone else in here. But the longer you go without talkin' about it, the harder it's gonna' be."

"Faster isn't always better, Logan. I can't do that right now. Right now I'm getting through all this physical stuff and then I'll get to all the mental damage. Trust me; it'll still be there when I'm ready."

"I just don't want you-"

"To bottle it up like you?" I said cutting him off. He gave me a nod. "I can't talk about it right now. I don't want to, yeah, but I _can't_. If I start getting into it, then I'm going to have a mental breakdown. I'm doing okay just day by day, but if I start seriously thinking and talking about all this stuff, I won't be able to handle it. I'm doing good not to cry everyday because I can't walk by myself. Just let me go slow and get to it when I'm ready, okay?"

He let out a sigh and ran his hand back through his hair. "Yeah, okay."

I stared at him for a moment. It was my turn. "Have you spoken to anyone?"

He gave me a gruff laugh. "No," he said. "Talkin' ain't my strong suit darlin', you know that."

"But it's mine?"

"You're better at it than me."

I gave my own laugh. "Not by much."

"We'll you've been to a psych before, so you should know what to do."

"Jerk," I muttered.

"I heard that."

"I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't intended for you to hear it," I said. "_Jerk_."

He gave me a sideways smirk. "You better watch it kid."

"_I_ had better watch it? You're the one making fun of the fact that I've seen a psychiatrist. And, may I remind you, that I only went to see him because my parents made me after I came back from Canada, where I had run away to see you."

"Are you blamin' it on me? It wasn't my fault that you ran away. I hadn't even met you yet. You did that one all on your own."

"Only because I couldn't get _you_ out of my head."

"That happens to a lotta' women, they just usually ain't my daughter."

I smiled at him. "Sort of gives a while new meaning to 'who's your daddy', doesn't it?"

"That's probably not the best conversation to catch the end of, is it?" I looked over and saw Scott standing in the doorway.

I shook my head. "Probably not," I said. "What brings you down here today?"

"Well, Hank sent me down here. He wanted to know if I could bring you upstairs for lunch. He said you needed to get some sun, even if it's from the kitchen windows."

"I don't think I can make it that far. Maybe in a few days."

He held up his finger. "That's what I thought, so the Professor is loaning you one of his old wheelchairs. The joystick is on the right side, so you should have no problem using it."

"I'm not so sure that the students would want to see me. I still look a little…scary. It takes a special kind of woman to pull off bald."

"You don't look scary; you look beautiful," he said beaming at me.

Before, I would have loved to have heard _Scott Summers_ telling me that I looked beautiful. But something had changed.

Something inside of me squirmed at hearing him say it.

Something hated how he smiled at me.

Something inside of me wondered just how he was looking at me from behind his sunglasses.

I didn't want him staring at me. I didn't want him to look at me and think I was 'beautiful'. I wanted him to keep away and just pretend he couldn't see me. Pretend I was nothing of interest. I would rather have had people think me scary than beautiful, because when you're scary, people don't want to get close to you. They don't want to be around you. They try to put as much distance between you and them as possible. And that's what I wanted; distance. Space. To be left alone.

I was happily entertaining the idea of the possibility that once I had healed, Logan and I could leave the school. I had thought staying would be best for me, but in that past week, I saw that it wasn't going to work for me.

There were too many people.

Too many risks.

Too many chances for people to touch me. To hurt me.

My instincts and mutation had failed me in judging Ben. What if they had failed where everyone else was concerned, too? And now that my mutation was gone completely, what if I made another mistake in getting close to someone?

I had never allowed myself to get close to people before Logan. And I decided it was probably best if I let him be the only person I trusted. Because he was the only one who had proven to me that they were worth trusting. Anyone else still had the chance to turn and hurt me. To touch me. Things began to click and go back and suddenly I found my mind repeating its old mantra once again in my head; _You don't need anyone else, you just need you_. And Logan, I silently added.

My mind kept playing with the idea of the two of us moving away to Canada. It put the two of us in a cabin where the rest of the world didn't exist. Nothing else mattered. He could earn work as a cage fighter or a lumberjack. I didn't need much to be happy.

Just him.

"Surprise!" I heard shouted as Logan helped me into the kitchen.

I had decided to go up for lunch and found myself faced with the whole of the staff standing behind a cake with flaming candles. "What's this all about?" I asked.

"You haven't celebrated your birthday yet, so we thought we'd give you a party," Rogue said as she smiled at me. "Happy birthday!"

"I want to go back to my room," I whispered to Logan. I had decided against the wheelchair and I was beginning to regret it.

"It's all right, no one's gonna' touch you," he whispered back. I shook my head. "Hey, I'm right here, I ain't gonna' leave you and I ain't gonna' let anyone get too close to you."

I looked up at him, right in the eyes. "Please." He just stared down at me. "Logan, _please_."

He let out a sigh and looked to everyone in the kitchen. "I don't think she's ready for this. There's too many people in here, it's makin' her nervous."

"Well, I can leave. I'm going to a party tonight anyway, so I need to go to the store to buy some stuff on my way there," Bobby said moving from behind the table. "Happy belated birthday Jayden. I hope you feel better soon."

I nodded at him. "Thank you, Bobby. I'm sorry."

He gave me a smile. "Don't worry about it," he said as he left.

"And I should probably go check on the students," Storm said. "Just try to have some fun, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

That left Hank, Rogue, the Professor and Scott. It was the most people I had been in a room with since being home and I felt my anxiety well up inside of me. My heart rate accelerated and I felt my knee go weak.

My knee.

Singular.

That was it; I couldn't take it.

"I want to go back to my room." I said louder and stronger. "I don't feel well and I just want to go back to my room.

But Logan didn't move, he just stood there. My anxiety broke through as tears, which streamed down my face. I went from calm to sobbing in such a short time that I seemed to have surprised everyone. And with every sob, my body shook, causing pain from my broken ribs.

I hated that everyone was watching me cry. It made me feel exposed and vulnerable.

I hated that I couldn't leave. I couldn't run away like before. I had to depend on someone to help me leave or I couldn't move.

I hated that I was scared.

I hated that I needed someone.

"Please," I cried to Logan. "Please just take me back."

"Okay," he said.

He helped to get me turned around and we were starting down the hall when I felt a hand on my back. It wasn't Logan's. I jerked away from it, lost my balance and fell myself falling. I hit the ground hard and felt pain curse through my body. I lay in the floor, on my face and unable to get up and listened to the exchange between Logan and Scott.

Logan swore. "What do you think you were doin'?" he yelled.

"I was trying to help her get down the hall," Scott defended.

"Just don't touch her," he said. "Nobody touch her." I heard everyone exit the kitchen and come into the hall as I felt Logan's hand on my back. I had managed to roll myself over and sit up, but I couldn't stand without his held. "Come on baby," he said, hoisting me up. "Let's go."

I could feel my cheeks burning hot and my tears returning to my eyes. I had never felt so embarrassed or pathetic in my life.

And I hated it.

"Do you hurt anything?" Logan asked once we had reached the infirmary again and he was helping me onto my bed.

"Aside from my pride?" I bit out.

"Yeah, _aside_ from that."

"No," I said quietly, wiping the last of my tears from my hot cheeks.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting in his chair.

"I was trying to get away from Scott touching me and I lost my balance, so I fell."

"No, why did you start cryin'? Why did you want to leave?"

"I couldn't take it."

"Couldn't take what?"

"What does it matter? I made a complete idiot of myself. I've never felt so stupid."

"Why did you feel stupid?"

I looked over at him. "You saw me. I _freaked out_ because there were six other people in the same room as me. I wanted to leave and I couldn't because I can't even _walk_ on my own, so I started crying. Then when we did start to leave, I _fell_ on my _face_ because someone touched me and I couldn't get back up without your help. Now you tell me why I _shouldn't_ have felt stupid."

He stared at me, his face void of emotion. I hated not knowing how he felt. "Why don't you like other people touchin' you?" he asked, his eyes feeling like they were boring into my skull, staring into my mind.

I couldn't take it and I looked away. I let out a shaky breath. "Because it scares me," I admitted quietly.

"Why?"

I shook my head. "Because when they touch me, I feel _them_. I feel those men. And I don't want that. I don't want to feel them anymore. I just want them to go away and leave me alone."

"Hey, they _are_ gone. They're not gonna' hurt you anymore."

I shook my head again. "No," I said. "You don't understand. I _know_ they're gone, but…I still _feel_ them. I feel them all over me, touching me. I see them…every time I go to sleep, I see them. I can't go one night without a nightmare where I see them and feel them. And it hurts and scares me. When they touch me, that's what I feel. I feel _them_. It feels like my skin's on fire and it starts burning." I paused to wipe away my new tears with the back of my hand. "I don't know what to do, Logan. I can't have people around me without getting scared."

"You know that no one here's gonna' hurt you."

"I thought that _he_ wouldn't either and I was wrong."

"I'm not gonna' leave you, though. I ain't gonna' let anything else happen to you."

"You've promised not to leave me before, and you left me standing on the side of the road, in the middle of a storm, all by myself and crying. You promised you wouldn't leave me, and you went missing and let me think that you were dead. You promised you wouldn't leave me, but you _have_. And I'm _scared_."

"I'm not gonna' leave you again. Not this time."

"But what if you do?"

"I won't."

I stared straight ahead, trying to stop from crying. "Logan," I said timidly. "Do you remember the promise you made me when we ran away before the summer? When we were in the motel? Do you remember what you promised me?"

"That I wouldn't let anything happen to you and that I would take care of you if something did?"

"No," I said quietly, almost whispering it. "You promised me that if something happened, you wouldn't let me suffer, you would take my pain away."

I felt his gaze burning into me, but I couldn't look at him. "I said if it was between you sufferin' and dyin' or dyin' now then I wouldn't let you suffer. You ain't sufferin' now, you're getting' better, you're healin', so don't even bring that back up."

"I can't be around _people_, no one can _touch_ me. I can't walk by myself, I'm not a mutant, I have those _stupid words_ written on my forehead. I'm all alone in my head and you don't understand how that feels. I'm going crazy, Logan. Look at me!" I cried. "I'm hurting, I'm in pain, I'm suffering. What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say to make you understand what I'm feeling? Part of me is numb; part of me is in never ending pain. What am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to stay here with me!" he yelled. "I didn't watch you go through all that just so I could bring you home and kill you myself. You're mine and you wanna' let them take you away from me."

I looked up at him. He had said that to me before. But it was when he was scared that my parents were going to take me away from him. This was something different, but I felt the comment I had made to him back then spew from my mouth. "You didn't even know I existed a year ago," I said quietly.

"Yeah I did," he said. "And I loved you then, but you're _mine_ now, and I'm selfish and I wanna' keep it that way."

"I'll always belong to you, no matter what. But I need you to do this for me."

"No."

"_Please_," I begged.

"No," he said strongly.

"You _promised_."

"I just told you I was selfish, kid. I'd rather have you be unhappy and here with me than to do what you want and have to be here without you."

I shook my head. "Fine," I said quietly.

"And don't even think about doin' it yourself, either. We've talked about this too many times already."

"Whatever you want."

He stood from his chair and began pacing in front of my bed. Back and forth he went, like a soldier patrolling his post. Back and forth, up and down the room he walked. He didn't speak, neither of us did, and the silence filled the room. I could feel it weighing me down, making me feel like it was hard to breathe.

"I'll try," I said, my voice cracking. I wanted to sound strong, but it betrayed me.

He stopped and looked at me. "You'll try what?"

"To get better. For you. I'll talk to a psychiatrist, if you want me to. But I don't think I can talk to Hank or the Professor. Maybe if they can find someone else," I said. "And I'll work on letting people touch me again. I can't promise that I can fix it, but I'll at least try. I want to learn to walk on my own and I'll work really hard on using my prosthetic when it comes in. I'll try really hard. Just…don't be mad at me, okay? I can't stand you being mad or disappointed with me. I'll do the best I can, I promise."

He looked at me and for the first time in days, I knew what he was feeling. I looked into his eyes and saw his heart break. "I ain't mad or disappointed with you, I'm just scared that I'm gonna' lose you. I love you, and nothing can change that. No matter what you do, it ain't gonna' make me love you any less, you hear me? I'm your father and I'm gonna' be here for you no matter what."

"I love you, Logan."

"I know you do, baby. I love you too," he said. "Everything's gonna' be okay. We're gonna' get you some help. You're gonna' get better. I _promise_."


	22. Somebody Save Me

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or Fox. But we're getting close to the end and I hope ya'll are enjoying it so far.

* * *

"Miss Rivers, can you tell me when you first became aware of you fear of people touching you?" Dr. Lewis asked.

It had been three days since my breakdown in front of Logan and the staff.

Three days since I had agreed to talk to a psychiatrist.

Three days since Professor Xavier had called in a favor to Dr. Lewis, who immediately dropped all of his plans and appointments to come speak with me. I had spoken to him before, during one long session where I had revealed to him the truth behind my running away and why I cared so much about Logan. Whether he had truly understood it or not, I wasn't sure. But he was the one who had convinced my parents that my going to the school would be healthy for me and he had also decided to pay for my first year of tuition at college. Which was promptly being refunded because I wasn't going.

Despite the fact that I had hated him when we had first met and he had all but accused me of being insane, I thought quite highly of him. And I appreciated the fact that he had been willing to clear his schedule for me.

"When I was there. Whenever one of them would touch me, it made me sick to my stomach. But the first time I woke up after being back home, I noticed that it really bothered me," I said playing with the strap on my sling.

"And what was your reaction the first time someone touched you?"

"I pulled away and yelled for them not to."

"And who was the first person you interacted with upon your waking?"

"Hank," I said. I looked up at him. "I mean, Dr. McCoy, sir."

He gave me a small, kind smile. "I know," he said. "Did you react this way because you thought Dr. McCoy was one of the men who held you captive?"

"No, I knew who he was. I recognized his touch."

"If you knew it was Dr. McCoy, then why did you not want him to touch you?"

"It's complicated," I said. "I _knew_ it was him, but whenever someone touches me, I feel those other people, I feel the other men somehow." I shook my head. "I don't understand it and I don't know how to explain it, I just know how it feels."

"Yes, I seem to recall that the last time we spoke, you had quite a difficult time explaining how you felt to me."

"I'm not very good at talking about how I feel because I didn't growing up. I didn't want my parents to think I was crazy or depressed or something."

"It's fine, just do the best you can," he said.

I was amazed by how much more at ease he seemed to be this time around. The last time we had spoken, he hadn't believed what I was telling him until our session was nearly over with. This time he seemed much more open to what I was saying.

"There's a part of me that's screaming how stupid I am to think that _Hank_, Dr. McCoy, would ever hurt me. It knows that it's an insane and absurd thought. It's irrational, crazy, just…part of me knows that he would never do that, because I know him. We've talked to each other in ways I can't speak to anyone else. We have serious talks and discussions. I can tell him anything," I said, staring at the chair where Logan usually sat. I had asked him to leave while I talked to Dr. Lewis. He put up a bit of a fight, but in the end, he left.

"But then again," I started, "there's another part of me that says all my fears are perfectly normal and appropriate. That everything I'm scared of makes sense. Part of me wants to know why I should trust myself to believe that what Dr. McCoy would tell me when it was just the two of us talking is actually the truth. I _thought_ I knew who he was, but unless we can crawl into someone's head and heart and know what they really think and feel, then we really don't know anyone. They tell us what they want and we choose to believe it or not. But we _never_ really know anyone, and who's to say that everyone doesn't think the same way those men did? Who's to say that not everyone wants to hurt us in some way? Who am I to believe that Dr. McCoy wouldn't do the same as them if he had the chance?"

"Because you know _him_."

"No, I _thought_ I did. But…I put up a front and pretended to be someone else for nearly eighteen years. How do I know he's not doing the same?"

"Don't you think that if Dr. McCoy had wanted to have hurt you in some way, he would have done so already? Why would he have waited so long?"

"The same reason everyone waits: Perfect timing."

"But you mentioned that the two of you have spoken privately quite a few times. I assume that that would mean that the two of you were alone with each other quite often. Why not attempt something then? He's quite a big fellow, I'm sure he would have no trouble doing so. And yet he chose not to. Why do you think that is, Miss Rivers?"

"I don't know, sir. Maybe he was scared of Logan, or something. I don't know."

"That could have been the case, true. But from what I've heard, those men who held the two of you captive were able to sedate him and even found a way to neutralize both of your mutations. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Dr. McCoy one of the world's leading scientists? If he had wanted, could he not have easily found a way to keep Logan from harming him? _If_ he wanted?"

"I don't know, probably."

"I met Dr. McCoy today and we spoke for quite a while before I came down for our session today. Now, I'll admit that to begin with, I was a little put off by his appearance. It's not every day you meet a six foot four man covered in blue fur. But from what I gathered, he's a very nice man. He held himself very well and seems to genuinely be a very intelligent, kind, caring gentleman. If you can get over the physical aspects of him, which I believe you have, there is nothing about him that you should fear."

"The Unabomber went to Harvard. He was smart and killed people."

"Dr. McCoy is hardly the Unabomber, Jayden."

"You never know."

"Is Dr. McCoy capable of harming you in some way? Absolutely. We all are. But not all of us _do_. Do you know the difference between the moral man and the ethical man, Miss Rivers?"

I shook my head. "No."

"The moral man _knows_ what's right, but it's the ethical man that actually _does_ what's right," he said. "I'm not disagreeing with the point you made earlier about not being able to truly know someone until we know what's in their heart, but there are _signs_. There are signs that people who usually commit crimes such as what happened to you give off. I met Dr. McCoy, I met Professor Xavier, whom I've spoken to quite a few times and I met your father, Logan. _None_ of them should any signs other than that of someone who _truly_ wants to see you get better. They're on _your_ side, they want to _help_ you. I received my degree in psychology over twenty years ago; I received my degree in psychiatry a few years after that. I've been working since then and I've seen countless patients and their families in my office seeking help for something not too far from what you're going through. But never in all my years of working have I met anyone who's been so dedicated to one single person as those men are to you. They are dedicated to making sure you have every available resource possible in order for you to be able to heal, both inside and out. I spoke to Professor Xavier and he said that this is the first time that Logan has left your side since you woke up. The _first_ time in two weeks."

"I'm not scared of Logan or him touching me."

He looked at me intently for a moment. "You're nervous about being alone in the same room as me, aren't you?" I looked away, but he knew I was. "And why is that?"

"Because I don't know what you think. I don't know _you_. I don't know what you want."

"But you're not afraid of Logan? Why do you believe and trust him but doubt everyone else?"

"Because I've been inside his head. I know what he thinks, I know how he feels, and there's no doubt in my mind that he honestly and truly loves me."

"And he was there, wasn't he? He was the only person who was there that wasn't hurting you, right?"

"Yes."

"And he was also the person who rescued you from them, wasn't he? He went through and killed those men until he found you and rescued you, right?"

I looked up at him from where I had been staring at my sling. "No."

He looked at me from over the top of his glasses, which sat perched atop his nose. "No?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Then what happened?"

"I killed them. I killed them, and slit their throats, and…and I castrated them," I said quietly.

"But I was told there were _ten_ men."

"There were ten that I killed. Then there was the one that shot me, and Logan killed him. So there was really eleven. But Logan wasn't with me when I did it. I had tried to choke one of the men with my handcuffs, and they gave me some sort of…shot in my neck. I passed out and when I woke up, I was in a white padded room. I was by myself."

"Then how did you get out?"

"They had left a chair and a noose for me to hang myself. But um…I climbed up the rope and punched out one of the lights. I used a piece of the glass to cut the padding on the walls and ripped most of it down until I found a window. It wasn't big enough for me to get through, but I found a metal bar that I used to knock through one of the walls. When one of the men came to check on me to see what I was doing, I killed him."

"How? How did you kill ten men all by yourself?"

"I hit most of them in the head with the bar of metal. I think I killed about six of them that way. Then one of them I stabbed in the neck. I beat him and the man that was with him in the head until there was nothing left. It was just a pool of blood, and bones, and bits of their brains lying at the top of their bodies. And every time I would take a swing into their heads, their blood and brains would splatter up and it would get in my nose and my mouth. And I could taste it, but I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. I just had to keep swinging until there was nothing there. Until I couldn't see their faces anymore. And then I shot two of them. The two brothers. They were the ones who had organized the whole thing. One came out first and I shot him in the stomach. That made his brother, Ben, come out. Up until then, everything had been quiet. I had barely made a sound. But he heard the gun go off; his brother screamed and fell to the floor. Then he came out. So I shot him, too. In the stomach. As he was falling down, his brother had found his gun and was aiming it at me. So I shot his hand off. Clear off, the whole thing. Blood was squirting everywhere. But I was already covered in it, so I didn't care," I said, continuing to stare away from him.

"I actually enjoyed watching him bleed. I loved the sound of how he screamed," I started again. "Then he started begging for me not to kill him. He said it wasn't his idea; it was his brother Ben's. So Ben tried to attack him. Then I shot his hand off, too. He started screaming and crying and holding on to where his hand was. I shot the other one and killed him. But I didn't go so easy on Ben. He was why I was there. He had been the first one to rape me. Everything was all his fault. So I took my time. I cut him apart, piece by piece. But not so that he would die. So he would suffer. So he could lay there in pain and I could listen to him scream and cry and beg. I wanted to make what he was going though so painful that he would beg for death so that it could be over with. To make Hell look like home. And after taking my time, I did kill him. Then I went to find Logan and when I did, I unchained him and took off his collar. When I did that, the last one alive, Chris, he shot me in the shoulder. I felt kind of bad when Logan shot him. He had been the one to call the school, that's how they knew where to come pick us up at. I had manipulated and convinced him that he should call and tell them goodbye for me. I talked him into getting me longer handcuffs so that I could jump over them and use the chain if I needed. Which I did. He was so easy to manipulate, though. But he shot me and he was going to kill me. That was the one that Logan killed. He shot him…then he gutted him."

He looked at me from over his glassed for a moment before finally letting out a sigh and setting his notebook down. "And how does that make you feel?"

I looked him straight in the eye. "How does that make me _feel_?" I asked, my voice sounding lame. "What do you mean how does that make me feel?"

"Well, do you feel happy, sad, angry-"

"Powerful," I said, cutting him off. "Killing them made me feel powerful. I felt like I was taking back something they took from me. They took my life, so I gave them death."

"Were you happy that you killed them?"

"Yes."

"And did you enjoy it?"

I nodded. "Yes sir, I did."

"And how do you feel about it now?"

"I don't know." I shook my head. "Some part of me is numb to the whole thing, like it never even happened. But then I remember that it _did _and I get angry. I look at myself in the mirror, I see the words written on my forehead, I see my bald and scarred head, I see my stump of a left leg and realize that I'm not the same person. They took me away, and that makes me sad. I think that they deserved to die, and it makes me happy that they did. I know how much I enjoyed killing them, how easy and effortless it was for me to kill them, and that scares me. I don't know who I am on the inside and that's what scares me and hurts me the most."

"What about that scares you?"

"The fact that I killed people. That I _enjoyed_ doing it. That I felt _powerful_ doing it. That I don't regret doing anything except for not making more of them suffer. I'm scared that I'm going to get mad one day and just kill someone because I know I _can_. I'm scared that I won't be able to control myself. I killed people, whether I had a reason or not, it doesn't matter. I still feel it. I still hear it. I still taste it and smell it. I still _see_ it," I said. "Sir, you know my parents, you know my back ground, and you know how I was raised. Violence was _never_ a part of my life. Just what I saw on TV or in my visions. But none of it was ever mine. Then after what happened in the bar in Canada last year, I decided I was done being a victim. So Logan started teaching me self defense. And I was good at it. Really good. So I kept going further, pushing myself harder, and doing more than just self defense. I was training to fight; I was learning how to kill people. I _thought_ I was ready for it. I _thought_ I could be like Logan and help people who couldn't protect themselves. Hank told me I wasn't ready, that it was harder than it looked, but I didn't listen to him. I thought if it was right, it would be easy. It wasn't though." I shook my head. "But what's _right_ anyway? Just someone else's opinion?"

"Do _you_ believe it was right of you to kill them?"

"Yes…no…" I shook my head again, tying to clear the fog in my mind. My left eye had been blurry and I blinked it furiously, trying to fix it, but it wouldn't. It had been doing that ever since Hank had done surgery on my face. He said it was from the damage of being punched in the face and that it would clear up on its own soon. "I don't know," I said, letting out a sigh. "That morning, before it all happened, Logan, Mr. Summers, Dr. McCoy and I were having a discussion about how criminals should be punished. Mr. Summers said it wasn't our part as citizens to punish people; it was up to the courts and juries. But Logan didn't agree with just sending people to jail. He said that people's punishments should be equal to their crimes. If you drown your kids, you should be drown until the point of passing out, wait until you come to, and then do it again. If you rape a child, you should be thrown into a cell and have your backside made into a playground by a group of skin heads. And I agreed with him. I believed he was right."

I scratched the back of my head and I could feel the scars on my skin. "This past winter, there was a break in at a lab in Scotland. One of Professor Xavier's friends owned the lab and some samples she had been working on were stolen. One was a sample for Marie, Rogue. She can't touch people without stealing their energy, their powers, their memories. The medicine was supposed to mute her powers, make her capable of touching people without killing them. But they stole it. Logan tracked down and when they wouldn't give it to him, he killed them. The two men he killed were brothers. They were Ben's brothers. And they believed that the only right thing to do was torture me in front of Logan. As his punishment for doing the same thing in front of them." I wiped away a tear from my cheek. "I don't know what I believe anymore, sir. I don't know what's right or wrong. Everything's so confusing now. I don't know what to think. Everything's just so…I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

"It's natural to be confused."

"Natural? _Natural_? It may be _natural_ to be confused, but that doesn't make it _easier_. Everything that I was, everything that I believed, has either been taken away or changed completely." I let out a sigh and shook my head. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"Why are you letting what _they_ did control how you see yourself? How you think and feel."

"I'm not _letting_ it; I don't know how to not see myself differently, because I _have_ changed. I do think and feel things differently than I did before this. It's not my _fault_, I didn't do anything wrong. Why am I paying for it?" I cried. "Why do I have to pay for something I didn't do? Why did I have to lose my life, my self, my leg, being a mutant, _everything_? _Why_?"

He took the glasses from his face and folded them. He leaned closer to me and looked me right in the eye. "I don't know why, Jayden. I can't answer that for you. But you _know_ you did nothing to deserve what happen, and you need to hold onto that. I can't give you answers for why they did what they did other than they were deeply disturbed people. There's no excuse for what they did. They took someone sacred from you. But as long as you live your life based off actions they made, they're going to continue to destroy everything. They're going to continue to control your life. And they're going to eat away at you until there's nothing left. What you have to do is make a decision to take back your life. Do something you can be proud of that's all you. You can start a group for teenage girls who have been abused and need someone to talk to, to support each other. You can start a foundation that helps young women learn self defense. You knew _how_ to defend yourself when you needed to, and you did. Take something that's bad and make it good. Turn it into a positive. What happened to you is terrible, but you don't have to let it ruin your life. You can make a difference, Jayden."

"I don't want to make a difference, I don't want to help people, I just want my life back."

"I want to help you."

"Can you give me my life back?"

"I can try."

I nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"So how did it go?" Logan asked, leaning in towards me from his chair.

Dr. Lewis and I had just finished our two and a half hours long session and Logan had come back in to stay with me. I was lying in bed, feeling too tired to sit up.

I shrugged my right shoulder. "I don't know."

"You don't know how it went?" he questioned. "Did he help you or not?"

I looked at him, my left eye still blurry and irritating me. "I don't know," I answered again.

He stared at me. "Are you okay?"

"No, I think something's wrong with me."

"Do you want me to go get Hank?"

I shook my head. "No, I think something's wrong with me because I don't think anyone can help me. I don't think it makes a difference what anyone says to me." I let out a sad sigh. "Why can't anyone help me? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong; you just need time."

"I don't have time, Logan. I'm dying on the inside, I'm going crazy, and I'm just _tired_. I'm done. I don't care what happens anymore."

He ran his hand over his mouth. "You get like this every other day, wantin' to give up. But by tomorrow, you're gonna' change your mind and you're gonna' be wantin' to get better," he said. "What did the doctor tell you?"

"Nothing important."

He let out a breath. "You talked for two and a half hours and he didn't say anything important?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what he said to you."

"He said I'm not crazy. He told me that what I'm going through is normal. He told me that it's nothing I can't get over with time. So basically, the Professor flew him all the way out here from California just to tell me the same thing Hank's been saying since I got home; that there's nothing wrong with me."

"And why are you mad about that?"

"I didn't say I was."

"You don't have to, I can see it."

"I wanted someone to see that there _is_ something wrong with me, and tell me how to cure it. But no one sees what I do."

"What do you see?"

"Nothing, that's the point." He let out an angry sigh and stood. He started walking from me. "Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not."

"Then who _are_ you mad at?"

"Myself, alright? I'm mad at _me_."

I sat up, feeling my head begin to pound as I did. "Why are you mad at yourself?"

"Because all this is my fault."

I shook my head and instantly regretted it as it only made it hurt worse. "We've gone over this before, Logan. This wasn't your fault. They stole something important, you went to find them, you lost your temper, yeah, but you didn't do it _knowing_ it was going to hurt me. You had no idea."

"That's not what I'm talkin' about."

I looked at him confused. "Then what are you talking about?" He put his hands at his waist and looked down at the floor. "Logan, _what_ are you talking about?"

He looked back up at me, his eyes brimmed with tears, and my heart sank. "The night that everything happened, I promised you I was gonna' take you out, just the two of us and I forgot. Then I said all that crap I didn't mean. If I hadn't have said anything, you wouldn't have left. You would've been pissed at me, but I could've handled that. I screwed up, I lost my temper, and you paid for it, you still are, not me. This is all my fault."

Watching Logan cry was the most painful thing I've ever had to witness. He wasn't supposed to _cry_. Crying was an emotion, and aside from anger, Logan rarely showed _any_ emotion. He locked it all up, pushed it all away, sent everything to the back of his mind where he didn't have to deal with it. But he _was_ crying. And my heart was breaking watching him. I had been so busy wallowing in my own self pity that I hadn't even took the time to really think about how he might feel. I watched him breakdown, the strong Wolverine, my father, and I felt a pain more intense than anything else I had ever felt before in my life.

I felt my heart break.

I felt my own eyes well up with tears, and soon they spilled down my cheeks. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what _he_ wanted me to say, because although I didn't blame him for anything, I _had_ left that night because of what he had said to me. Because I was mad at him. And I hadn't hid the fact that because of what happened, everything inside of me felt broken. How could I tell him everything was okay when it wasn't? How could I explain to him that I didn't blame him when what had happened had been a reaction to some of _his_ actions? What was I supposed to say?

I didn't know.

So I said nothing.

I just sat there and watched him cry.

I cried too.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt connected with him again.

* * *

I woke the next day with a headache and my eye was still blurry. But it was the silence that hurt the most. It was the silence I couldn't get used to.

"Mornin' darlin'," Logan said.

I looked over at him. It was hard for me to focus when my vision was so blurry and it only intensified my headache. "Morning," I mumbled out.

"How do you feel?" I let out a growl that ended with a small whine. "That good, huh?"

"I feel like going back to sleep."

"You just woke up."

"I don't care." He stared at me solemnly. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't say anything was."

"No, but I can tell that you're having a hard time debating between whether you should tell me something or not."

He gave me a small, almost sad smirk. "I thought you couldn't feel what I was feelin' anymore?"

"I can't. I just know _you_."

He let out a sigh and leaned in close to me. "Hank was down here a little while ago."

"Okay…so?"

"He's been tryin' to keep up with your blood and everything, to make sure the infection that was in your leg was gone."

"I know. He's been poking me full of needles every few days."

"Well he got some of the tests back today."

"And?"

He looked up at me and placed his hand over mine. "The infection's still in your leg. He…he's gotta' take more off."

"How much?"

He shook his head. "I don't know baby. He'll have to see once he gets in there or something." He squeezed my hand. "You alright with that?"

"Do I have another chance?"

"You ain't got to be alright with it. It's gotta' be done, but you don't have to like it."

"My prosthetic won't work now, will it? They'll have to fit me for another one, won't they?"

"Yeah."

"So it's going to take me even longer to walk again?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it will."

"When does he have to do the surgery?"

He shook his head again. "I don't know. Soon, but not right away. He's gonna' start you on some kind of medicine today. He wants to try to knock out as much of the infection as possible before operatin'."

I gave him a sad, weak smile. "I'm not going to get better, am I?"

I watched him fight with tears as he grinded his jaw down. "Yeah you are. You're gonna be fine, baby."

I wasn't so strong in holding back tears. My vision blurred even more as I cried, tears falling from my eyes like rain in a storm. They ran down my cheeks angrily as I sobbed.

"I'm scared," I cried.

"I know, I know you are, but don't be, alright? 'Cause Hank knows what he's doin' and I ain't gonna' leave you," he said, his voice sounding tight and broken as he held back his tears. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I nodded. "Will you hold me?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he said.

He lay down beside me and pulled me to him, holding me tightly. He cradled my head close to him and kissed the top of it softly. I burrowed myself as close to him as possible and cried. Logan was the only person I wanted to ever see me let my guard down. Because I knew he wouldn't judge me. I was his, and he loved me, and he took care of me, and that was all that mattered.

"It's so quiet I can hear your heart beating," I mumbled.

"I can hear yours, too."

"Do you hear it breaking?"

"No, 'cause I ain't gonna' let it."

"Do you remember when you tried to avoid any contact with me at all and you almost wouldn't let me go with you? Now look at you; you're the only person I'll even let touch me." I let out a shaky breath. "I need somebody to save me, Logan."

I felt his mouth on my ear, breathing hot above it, sending chills through my body even as he held me close. "I'm gonna' save you, Jayden. I'll always come save you, I promise," he said. "I promise."

I can't explain the feeling of being able to trust someone. Of being able to put all of your faith into one person. I've never needed or wanted anyone in my life; but with Logan, he changed everything around.

I wanted him.

I needed him.

And I trusted him to take care of me.

Because he always had.


	23. The End

Disclaimer: For the last time; I don't own the rights to Marvel or Fox, but it's the holidays, be nice and let it slide. There's no need to sue; I'm not getting any money of it. Anyway, this is the last chapter. I can't believe how well this story has done. I was really nervous. I thought ya'll would hate and be sick of Jayden after one story with her, but I guess not. Anyway, I hope ya'll like the ending. Enjoy.

* * *

"Jayden, Logan, I think you should see this," Hank said hurrying into the room and turning on the TV hanging in the corner. He flipped through the channels manically before he finally stopped. It was on commercial.

"You think we need to see an ad for a nail fungus medicine? Thanks McCoy," Logan joked sarcastically.

I had been hours since I had woken and Logan had spent the time since then holding me and doing everything he could to cheer me up. We both still were in my bed, but sitting up. I was resting my head on his shoulder and he was holding my hand: the only part of my body that _didn't_ hurt when it was touched.

"No, not the advertisement, the news program," Hank said as the show came back from commercial.

"Before the break, we told you of the startling discovery two men from Kentucky made while on a hunting trip in Sherbrooke, Canada. We go live now to Chip Dunklemen who's on site to tell you about what those two men found. Chip."

The screen went from the dark haired news woman to a man in his mid-forties who was standing outside of a building. One that made my stomach lurch when I saw it. Logan and I both muttered identical swearwords in perfect sync from under our breath.

"Thanks Amy," the man on TV began. "What we have here is an absolutely devastating and terribly haunting mystery. Two men from Kentucky, Jeremy Kohls and Steven Hall came to Sherbrooke, Canada on a hunting trip as part of a gift Jeremy's father was giving him for his twenty-fifth birthday. The two men had been camping in the woods for nearly a week when they decided to move their camp further north. It was Steven, a college student, who made the first unusual discovery, which led them to this grisly scene."

The camera cut to another scene of two young men. "We were just walkin'," the man identified as Steven started, his thick southern accent apparent. "We were walkin' up this hill, followin' the river, when we spotted this Jeep. We checked to see if someone was in it, 'cause we thought they might be hurt or something. It was empty but Jeremy saw some blood stains on the passenger's side. We didn't really think about it, we just thought there was someone hurt, so we tried trackin' the tire tracks to see if we could find 'em and maybe help 'em or something."

"We followed the tire tracks back about five miles to this buildin'. It looked empty, but we thought whoever was in the Jeep might be in there. So we went in and…well, that's what we found," the man identified as Jeremy said.

The camera stayed on the two men, but Chip the newscaster's voice could be heard. "What they found were _eleven_ dead bodies."

"I ain't gonna' lie, I got sick lookin' at it. But the smell was worse. It was really gross man, it was sick," Steven said.

"Crime scene investigators have been on the scene since it was reported early Friday morning, but so far, there aren't many answers, only more questions. Although they can't say just yet _why_ these men were killed, then can tell you _who_ they were," the man's voice said. "Police aren't releasing their names just yet, but we've been told that three of the men were brothers. One of which was going to school to become a _doctor_, while we're told the other two had both studied science intensely, though neither were certified scientists. At first, it seemed those were the only victims that seemed to be related. But later we found out that one of the brothers had been in the military with _six_ of the other eight victims. The men who had been slain were U.S. soldiers. They were _heroes_."

The camera showed a woman in a uniform with CSI written across the chest. She looked very grace. "It's amazing. When we arrived on scene, we weren't expecting this at all. We knew that there were some bodies here, but none of us could imagine what we saw when we walked down the corridor for the first time. As soon as you walk in, the first thing you smell is death. It's quite strong and almost overwhelming. I've been working on crime scenes for nearly fifteen years, and this is honestly the first time I've ever gotten sick just by walking into the room."

"Can you tell us the cause of death was to some of the soldiers? Because I know that it's been hard to tell with some of them, right?" Chip asked as he interviewed the woman who was identified as a director of CSI in Ontario.

"Right," she said shaking her head. "It has been very hard to determine the cause of death, and we won't be able to fully determine it until we get the autopsy reports back after they're fully inspected. Right now, six of the eleven received blows to the backs of their head, which we're assuming was the hit that killed them. But with these six, their throats were also cut, which could very well have been what killed them. We can't say right now, though."

"Now you said only _six_ of the eleven were found like that, what about the other five?"

"One received a gunshot to the abdomen, his right hand which was shot off completely, and then he was shot in the head. The other four look like they were either beaten or dismembered somehow. But one thing that we found odd, or more so than the rest of this at least, was that all but one of them was castrated."

"Can you tell us _why_ this could have happened, or if you have any leads as to who may have done this?"

"So far we have no suspects or motives, but we're working very closely with the Sherbrooke police department and we hope to be able to come up with one very soon."

"Well, you have no suspects, but is there anything, any evidence, that may give you an _idea _of what type of person the suspect could have been. And _was_ it just one person, could only one person have been able to have done this?"

"There's really not enough evidence at this point to really determine just how many people there were, but no; I believe it was more than one person who did this. These were trained men trained men of the military. Is it possible that only one person could have done all of this? You…I've been working on scene for the past day and a half and I've seen all of the bodies, I've been in change or identifying and tagging most of the men, and I just can't imagine any _one_ person being able to do all of this. If there is such a person, I've never met them," she said. "From what we can tell, it looks as though there were at _least_ five men, and we're guessing in their mid-twenties to early forties. The blows to their heads would have taken a lot of strength. Something most women or anyone younger or older couldn't have done. At first it seemed like an animal may have even mauled some of them, explaining why only a few of them are dismembered, but further research proved that it was done, instead, by a knife."

"As we said before, this is just a terribly gruesome and grisly mystery that we'll be following over the next few days. Right now the police aren't ruling _anyone_ out as a suspect, even the two men who reported the terrible discovery."

The camera cut back to the two young men. "We're willin' to cooperate with the police any way we can. This is really terrible, they killed some of our soldiers and we're gonna' do everything we can to help them find the real guys who did this," Steven said. "We want to make sure they pay for what they did to our men."

"There you have it. We'll be reporting back as more information comes in. Back to you Amy," Chip said.

The screen cut back to Amy, the newswoman, and she began talking about another news story. Hank turned off the TV.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.

"Nothing," Logan said. "Not until they come to you."

"And then what? I'll be convicted of _killing_ and everyone here will be in trouble for withholding evidence. They were U.S. _soldiers_, how am I supposed to explain what happened?" I felt panic rise up in me and I could hear it in my voice.

"You _don't_ explain it," Logan said firmly.

"Then what do I do? My blood is all over that floor. My blood is all in that cell. They'll _find_ me."

"Shh," he said. "Just calm down."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Like I said; nothing. If they find you, _if_, then you can tell 'em that you were kidnapped and all you remember is wakin' up here at the school. You don't remember anything that happened. And besides, they're not looking for you; they're lookin' for the people who killed 'em."

"_I _killed them!" I shouted.

"But they don't know that. They're look' for five full grown men, not some skinny little nineteen year old girl. They're not lookin' for _you_, so they ain't gonna' _find_ you."

"They were soldiers. He said they were _heroes_. And I killed them." I looked up at him and shook my head. "I _killed_ them."

Logan looked down at me. "I don't care if they were soldiers or not, what they did to you was _wrong_. It doesn't matter _who_ they were."

"They think I'm some crazy monster."

"You're not. They don't know what happened, okay?" I was scared. "And if they _ever_ find you, you don't know what happened, either."

"But-"

"No. No buts. If this ever comes back to you, like I said; you were _kidnapped_, okay? That wasn't your fault, it was theirs. After that, you just remember wakin' up here in the school, nothing from the week before. If they don't leave you alone, you start rememberin' things, what they did to you. But _you_ didn't kill 'em."

"Then who am I supposed to say _did_?"

"Me."

I stared up at him in shock. "What?"

"If it comes down to it, then you tell 'em I did it. You hear me?"

"No, I'm not lying and telling them that you did it. Absolutely not."

"Look, aside from those dead guys, the only DNA they're gonna' be able to find is yours and mine. _If _they find you, and you tell 'em you didn't do it, they only other person it could've been was me."

"No, I'm not going to say that. I don't care what they believe; I'm not telling them that you did it."

"You will if I tell you to."

"No I won't."

"Yeah you will, 'cause you do what you're told, even if you don't like it."

"Not this time, not for that."

"What other choice do you have?"

I stared up into his eyes. "I could tell them the _truth_."

"And you think they're gonna' believe a sweet, innocent lookin' girl with one leg did all that? 'Cause I don't. But they will think I did."

"I'll just tell them what they did to me; I'll tell them it was self defense."

"How are you gonna' explain _why_ they took you, _why_ they did what they did to you? How are you gonna' explain why you didn't turn it in? How are you gonna' do that?"

"I don't know," I admitted lamely.

"It was _my_ fault, everything that they did. If anything happens, _I'm_ gonna' take the blame for it. Not you. You've already paid enough, you ain't gonna' pay anymore for _my_ mistake."

"I don't _care_ what _I'm_ going through. If I tell them that you did that, they'll take you away from me. You promised you wouldn't leave me anymore. You _promised_."

"And I'm gonna' do everything I can to stay with you, but I ain't gonna' let you take the blame for something I should've been doin' in the first place. I'd rather have you here unhappy then to see them lead you off to pay for something that wasn't your fault. I told you kid; I'm selfish."

"But you can't make me tell them that. You can't make me tell them you did it. So I'm not going to."

"Then I'll do it myself."

"If you tell them that, and they take you away from me, I'll never forgive you."

"And if I let them take you away from me, I'll never forgive myself."

I felt my tears flowing before I even realized I was crying. I felt him pull my closer to him and hold me tighter.

There are days when everything seems to be going wrong, but the prospect of tomorrow can make the day seem brighter. And then there are days when everything seems to fall down around us. We watch it crashing down on top of and breaking us. We feel the weight coming down on us, consuming us with its power, and changing our lives completely and the thought of tomorrow brings nothing but fear that things will only get worse. That was what kind of day I was having.

I felt like I couldn't breathe, I was lightheaded and everything inside of me was fighting for its release. I was crying, but it wasn't satisfied by that. I felt my stomach churn and tasted as vomit fought its way up my throat. Logan heard me gag and grabbed the wastebasket beside me just in time. I hung my hear over it and my body wracked violent as my empty stomach wretched and my sobs refused to subside, but instead, grew worse.

I felt Logan's hand on my back, attempting to comfort me in some small way and failing almost completely.

"I want it to stop, just make it stop," I cried. "Please. Just make it all go away. Make it all better. Please just make it stop, _please_."

"I can't baby, I don't know how," Logan said.

"Yes you do!" I shouted. "You know how to make it go away. You can make it stop. You know how to stop it. Please Logan."

"No, I can't."

I looked over at him, my eyes shining wet with tears. "If you won't help me, then why are you here?" I whispered, my body shaking, my lip quivering. "I can't have you here if you refuse to help me. I would rather be here alone and helpless than for you to be here with me, _knowing_ that you _can_ help me, you just _won't_."

He looked down at me. "I'm not leavin' you," he said quiet but strongly.

"If you won't help me, then just leave me _alone_."

He stared at me and I looked into his eyes. Part of him looked angry, another part looked hurt. "I can't do what you're askin' me to do. I can't do what you _want_."

"Yes you can, and if you're not going to, then _please_, just _leave_."

He looked away. "Fine," he said angrily. He stood. "You wanna' get pissed at me for not wantin' to do what you want, the fine, I'll leave, 'cause I sure ain't doin' that."

"No, you just want to sit here and feed me all this crap about how I'm going to get better and I'm going to be okay, when I'm not. Now the police are looking for me and you want me to tell them that _you_ killed them when _I_ was the one that did. _I_ still have nightmares about it. _I'm_ the one that lost a leg and has to lose more because of some _stupid_ infection. I lost _everything_!" I shouted. "I'm not a person anymore; I'm a monster. I'm a _thing_! You don't know what I'm going through or what I felt like, and you don't care! All you do is sit down here and treat me like I'm some stupid little kid, like I don't know what's going on, but I do. I'm not _going_ to get better. I'm going to keep getting worse until I'm lying in a bed, with all of my limbs gone, eating through a tube and depending on other people to take care of me and clean me. I'm losing the sight in my left eye; it's going…you have _no_ idea what I'm feeling. I'm so lost and scared and _alone_, so if _you_ want to get pissed at _me_ for asking you to leave because you won't help me, then get pissed at me. Get mad, get angry, _yell_ at me. I don't _care_. You can help me, but you won't."

"I'm not gonna' _kill_ you!" he screamed.

"Then get out! Leave me alone!"

He stormed from the room, leaving me in my bed and sobbing. Hank didn't move. He didn't make a sound. He just let me cry. My heart felt like it was breaking.

Logan refused to kill me to take away my pain, but what he didn't realize was that on the inside, I already _was_ dead.

* * *

Hours had passed and I was in my room all by myself for the first time since coming home. Hank had explained what type of medication he was going to put me on in order to try to eradicate as much of the infection in my leg as possible. There was a long list of side-effects to the medicine, but he said it was worth it. Worth it because it wasn't his body he was putting the medicine into.

I also gritted my teeth long enough for him to check my eye. My suspicions were confirmed. It was covered in scar tissue from where my eye socket had been broken and the shattered bone fragments had scratched it. As it healed, the scarring became worse, spreading further into my iris, 'causing my sight to be blurry. I wasn't going to be fully blind, but I wasn't going to be able to use it much. He also brought in my prosthetic and attached it, allowing me to use it for the first time. It felt odd, but it was nice to be able to walk on my own. Hank said that since I was doing so well so quickly with my new leg, I could leave the infirmary and stay in my bedroom. I was excited about being able to sleep in my own bed for the first time in almost a month.

So that night I stayed in my room.

In the dark.

All by myself.

I stayed awake, afraid to go to sleep. I was scared that I would have a nightmare like every night before, and I was alone, with no one to comfort me if I were to have one.

I lay awake, staring up at my ceiling and jumping at every shadow that moved across it due to the wind blowing the branches outside my window. There was a storm coming and I lay in bed until I heard the sound of the rain crashing against the roof. It pounded angrily at the window, and I flinched with every sound. I curled up on my side, ignoring the pain of my broken ribs and tried to calm myself somehow. But I couldn't. I was a nervous wreck. Not forgetting also paranoid and extremely depressed. Everything hurt, inside and out, and I didn't know how to stop the pain. I tried to will it away, but it didn't work. I looked at my future and I saw nothing that I wanted. I saw nothing that held promise. I saw nothing but darkness.

I was tired.

I was weak.

I was done.

A thought popped into my head at some time around three in the morning, and by half past the hour, it not only seemed to make perfect sense, but it also looked pretty good to me.

I got out of bed and walked awkwardly to the bathroom. I hadn't gotten used to the prosthetic, it was clumsy, but there was no way I couldn't use it.

When I reached the bathroom, I turned on the water to the bathtub and began filling it. I looked at myself in the mirror, for one of the firs times since being home. My eyes were red and the area around them was swollen and puffy. I had dark under eye circles. My skin was pale from my lack of eating. My head had only began growing my hair back, leaving it to look patchy and fuzzy. The lack of hair only seemed to accentuate the words engraved on my forehead. I ran my fingers over them, feeling the rise of the scars on my skin. They meant vile body, only fit as the object of an experiment. I had truly become the sentiment.

I took my arm from its sling, removed it, and placed it on the counter of the sink. My arm hurt to hang loosely, but I chose to ignore it. Then I removed my sweatshirt. Ever since coming home, I had worn lose, baggy clothes in my attempt to keep anyone from looking at me. I was ashamed of how I looked and didn't want anyone to ever stare at me like those men had. I took the sweatshirt, folded it up nearly and placed it beside the sling on the counter.

I turned off the water once the tub was full and I sat on the edge before taking off my prosthetic leg. Then I slowly lowered myself into the warm water. I slid down the tub, my face the only thing not submerged. I took a deep breath and then pulled my head back, allowing water to cover every part of me. I rested my head at the bottom of the tub and closed my eyes.

Then I let out my last breath.

I closed my eyes and I saw him. He was everywhere. And I could hear him.

I could hear us.

"_What made you get up?"_

"_I heard…I heard you, but I thought I was just imagining it."_

He shook his head. _"No, I ain't gonna' let you give up that easy."_

"_I was just so tired and was missing you, I…I didn't know what else to do."_

"_No that. I don't care what happens; you don't ever do that again. People are gonna' screw you over and screw you up, but you don't let 'em win. You don't let 'em see you hurtin', 'cause that's what they want. That's how they win. You get up and you keep fightin, kid. You hear me?" _

I nodded. _"Yeah."_

…

"_I just want to understand it. I want to know what to do. I need you…I need you…"_ I sobbed.

"_You need me to what? Tell me what you need me to do, darlin'?" _

"_I need you to make the decision for me."_

"_I can't." _

"_Please Logan, I can't do this myself."_

"_That's the only way you can do it."_

"_But I'm scared."_

"_It's 'cause this is important,"_ he whispered in my ear. _"You gotta' make this decision yourself, but whatever you decide, I…"_ He took in a deep breath. _"I'm gonna' be here, whatever decision you make."_

I placed my mouth by his ear. _"Can we run away? Just the two of us? I promise I won't bother you."_

He kissed my cheek. _"Just tell me where you wanna' go, baby. Tell me where and when and I'll take you anywhere."_

…

"_I'm scared,"_ I admitted.

"_Of dyin'?" _

"Yeah,"

"_Don't worry about dyin', 'cause you ain't gonna' die 'til you're old and ready. Not now." _

"_You can't either."_

"_I'm already old."_

"_Not old enough to die. Why can't we die together? That way, neither of us has to miss the other one. Okay?"_

"_Okay. You and me, kid. You and me together."_

"_Promise?"_

"_Yeah, I promise." _

…

"_I just can't help this feeling that before I die, I'm going to be in a lot of pain and…it scares me."_

"_You got a long time before you die darlin', so don't worry about it."_

"_I need you to promise me something."_

"_What?" _

"_If anything ever happens to me, you won't let me suffer, you'll make it stop."_

"_Kid-"_

"_If you did it for Mariko when she was in pain, and she was your wife, she was carrying your baby, then you can do it for me, too. I just need you to promise me that you will."_

"_If anything ever happens to you that neither of us can stop and it's either die then or suffer and die later, then yeah, if you ask me to I will. But I told you; I ain't gonna' let anything happen to you, alright?"_

I sat up in the tub, panting for breath. I hung my head low and began to cry.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't kill myself.

I promised Logan I wouldn't and I couldn't break my promise to him. Unless he broke his to me.

I got out of the tub, reattached my prosthetic and left the bathroom. My clothes were soaking wet and dripping.

But I didn't care.

I left my room slowly and made my way to Logan's door. I left a trail of water in my wake.

But I didn't care.

I opened the door to his room, the lights were out, he was lying on his side and looked asleep.

But I didn't care.

He sat up and looked at me. "Jayden? What's wrong baby?" I shut the door behind me and began walking closer to him. He turned on the lamp beside his bed. "Why are you wet? What happened?" He stood, pulled the cover from his bed and wrapped it around me.

I looked up at him, my tears mixing with the water dripping down my face. "I was trying to get clean," I mumbled quietly.

"What?"

"What they did to me, it made me dirty. I was just trying to get clean. I was trying to get rid of it all, but I couldn't. I couldn't because I promised you I wouldn't do that again. I promised I wouldn't try to kill myself. But you…you promised me that if I couldn't deal with the pain anymore, you would take it away. But you won't, you lied to me. You _lied_," I said crying.

He stared down at me, his eyes wide, filled with pain, sympathy and tears. "I didn't lie."

"Yes you did. You said you wouldn't let me suffer. But I am. And I'm all alone."

He pulled me to him. "You're not alone, I'm right here," he said. "And you ain't gonna' suffer, you _are_ gonna' get better. Hank's gonna' fix you."

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," he whispered and I could hear tears in his voice.

"It's so _quiet_. You don't understand because you enjoy the silence. I thought I hated the noise, but I didn't. It's the silence that I hate. It's the silence that comes in and covers my soul and smothers me. You can learn to live with noise; it's the sound of life. It's the sound of silence that makes me feel dead. I can't deal with it anymore. I can't do it. Every time I close my eyes, I _see _them. I feel them all over me, touching me, _hurting_ me. And they won't go away. I tried to clean it all away, but I can't. I can't,' I said, my breath shaky. I looked up at him. "But you can."

"Jayden-"

"Logan, if you don't, then you lied to me. You broke your promise. That means that I can, too. And I will. I'll slit my wrists, I'll hang myself, I'll do something, and it's going to hurt. But you can do it; you can make it easier, _faster_. You can take all my pain away. _Why_ won't you?"

He held my face in his hands. "Because you're _mine_," he said, "and I can't let you go. I didn't want you to be with me 'cause every person I've ever loved has died. You're not dead, they didn't kill you, and I ain't ready to lose you yet."

"But you're going to; you just have to choose _how_. You can let me suffer more, let me die all alone, or you can do it quick and let me be here with you. You can _save_ me. Why won't you?"

He shook his head. "I can't."

"When those men said they would kill you if I didn't do what they wanted, I was scared. I didn't want to watch you get hurt; I didn't want you to feel any pain. So I did what they said. I did _everything_. I'm nothing, I'm empty, I'm just a shell. I love you; I couldn't let them hurt you. I would do _anything_ for you. Why can't you do the same? Don't you _love_ me?"

He closed his eyes and I watched as tears ran down his cheeks. I reached up my small hand and wiped them away. He opened them back up, allowing more tears to fall, and he looked down at me. "Yeah, I love you. I always have. But when you love someone you wanna' keep them _with_ you. You don't wanna' let 'em go."

I held his cheek in my hand and gave him a weak smile. "No, when you love someone would do _anything_ to keep them from ever feeling any pain. I know because that's how I feel about you."

"Then you won't ask me to do this, 'cause you know how much it'll hurt me."

"Logan, please, don't let them take me apart piece by piece while they make me watch. I don't want to die in a hospital room, on an operating table. I don't want to be stuck taking pills to keep some infection away. I don't want to be scared of people touching me, of how they look at me. I don't want to be scared anymore. _Please_, don't le me." He didn't say anything. I took his hand, made it into a fist and pressed it to my chest, right against my heart. I leaned up closer to him, placing my mouth to his ear. "Do you remember when we were in Canada and you finally took me with you? You pulled me out of the storm and you saved me. Do you remember when you saved me?"

"Yeah," he choked out.

"Every time I see, or hear, or smell rain, I think of you. I think of how close I got to you. I think of how much I needed you. I think of much I wanted you and how much I wanted _you_ to need _me_. I think about how much I _love_ you." I felt his tears fall against my neck. "Remember when it rained. And then remember how much I love you. If you remember, then I can't die, and I'll always be with you. Just remember the rain, and remember me."

"Okay," he whispered. "But there's something I gotta' know."

"What?"

I felt his break shake. "Your middle name, I need to know it."

"Hope," I said quietly, tears falling from my eyes. "But it was never me; it was always you. Because you're my only hope." I kissed his cheek and grabbed a handful of his shirt in the back as I held on to him tightly. He wrapped his other arm around me, holding me close to him. "I love you Logan."

"Right back at'cha, kid," he said crying.

I closed my eyes.

I heard the 'snikt' of his claws.

I felt a pain in my chest.

Then the darkness came.

I woke with a gasp, sitting up immediately. My head was pounding, there were voices screaming in my mind, and everything hurt as it all tried to fit in my mind at once.

"Ah, sleeping beauty, you're awake. You've missed nearly all of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly's romance on the French Riviera," Hank said, smiling at me.

I barely heard him.

I let out a small scream through my gritted teeth as tears flowed from my eyes.

Everything fought to make space in my head and I felt pressure on my brain as it did.

And I heard it all playing itself on fast forward in my head.

"_Is Logan back yet?"_

"_I believe so."_

"Jayden, what's wrong?" Hank asked, moving closer to me on the den's couch.

"_Kid, I'm sorry. I forgot that we were supposed to go out tonight."_

"_How sweet of you to_ forget _your daughter_."

"Jayden, can you hear me?" Hank asked. I nodded my head. "What's wrong?"

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a whimper. Then the pain increased and I screamed.

"_The only reason Summers would ever wanna' be with you is to get back at me for tryin' to take Jean away from him."_

"Make it stop, it hurts!" I gasped, grabbing fistfuls of Hank's shirt, trying to alleviate the pain somehow.

"_We've been waiting for you to wake up. Didn't you know it wasn't polite to keep people waiting?"_

"_If you make one more move, I will slit his throat. I don't think you would like that, would you?"_

"_Now take off your clothes."_

"_I'm going to go slow, so you can feel it all."_

"_The only reason he was after you was 'cause of me. I killed 'em, it's my fault. And I'm sorry."_

"How do I make it stop, what do I do?" Hank asked, looking completely helpless.

"Logan," I gritted out. "I need Logan."

I barely heard him call for Logan as the noise in my head was so great.

"_Why aren't you screaming?"_

"_They gave up without a fight. You haven't."_

"_Oh, and by the way kid, happy birthday."_

"_This is going to hurt. And you're going to want to scream. But you won't, will you? You're just going to sit there and take it."_

"_How do you feel sweetheart? Do you think all of that pain is worth it? Do you think he deserves the love and loyalty you show him? He lied to you about killing our brothers, what else has he lied to you about?" _

"It hurts, it hurts!" I cried, the pain in my head overwhelming.

"Just hold on, Jayden. Logan's almost here."

"_It wasn't my idea. Please don't kill me. It wasn't my idea."_

"_Close your eyes darlin', you don't need to see this."_

"_You killed 'em all?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Good."_

"_I can't feel my foot."_

"_We had to take it."_

"_I'm not a mutant anymore."_

"_No one's takin' me away from you, darlin'. I'm stayin' right here. I'm stayin' with you, okay?"_

"_Maybe I don't want to get better."_

"_You don't look scary, you look beautiful."_

I screamed and cried and held onto Hank as tightly as I could while the pain pound into my brain. With every sentence, every word, the pressure mounted, becoming worse.

"_You're supposed to stay here with me! I didn't watch you go through all that just so I could bring you home and kill you myself. You're mine and you wanna' let them take you away from me."_

"_Were you happy that you killed them?"_

"_Yes."_

"_And did you enjoy it?"_

"_Yes sir, I did."_

"_The infection's still in your leg. He…he's gotta' take more off."_

Logan came running into the room, with Marie right behind him. He sat down on the couch in front of me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me right in the eye. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

I nodded. "Please, just make it stop! Make it stop Logan!"

"_Remember when it rained. And then remember me."_

"_Your middle name, I need to know it."_

"_I love you Logan."_

"_Right back at'cha, kid."_

"Jayden!" Logan yelled.

And all at once the pain stopped, leaving nothing but a whisper of a memory against my mind. I fell against him, everything inside of me completely exhausted. I gasped for breath as he stroked my hair and held me close to him. I clung to him tightly, my body shaking as I sobbed in his arms.

"Shh," he said, trying to calm me. "It's okay, I got you baby, you're okay. Just calm down and breathe."

But I couldn't stop crying, and my body wouldn't stop shaking. I could smell my own fear radiating off me.

He pulled me back and looked into my eyes. I looked up at him, my eyes shining bright and my breath was ragging. My mouth was quivering and my mind was busy, trying to process everything that I had seen.

"Jayden, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I just had a terrible vision."

The End

_I'm being haunted by a whisper  
A chill comes over me  
I've been trapped inside this moment  
I'm not victim, I'm not a freak _

Free me  
before I slip away  
Heal me  
wake me from this day  
Can somebody help me?

I've seen the face of my affliction  
of my reality  
I'm being tortured by the future  
of things that are yet to be  
I'm being haunted by a vision  
it's like the morning never comes  
I feel the burden of confusion  
always searching... on the run

Free me  
before I slip away  
Heal me  
wake me from this day  
Can somebody help me?

_  
Now, I'm not a hero... no  
but the weight of the world's is on my soul  
these imagines burn my eyes  
they're burning me up inside_

_Free me  
before I slip away  
Heal me  
wake me from this day  
Can somebody help me? _

_- 'Somebody Help Me' Full Blown Rose_


End file.
